


The Encyclopedia Of Elves

by BlueFeatheredFeline



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Coming of Age, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Innuendo, Interracial By Fantasy Standards, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Work In Progress, You Have Been Warned, have tissues ready, lots of world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 33
Words: 132,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23684044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueFeatheredFeline/pseuds/BlueFeatheredFeline
Summary: Still determined to help King Harrow survive, Callum turns his attention to researching moonshadow elves. Armed with a single book, his actions will change the way that fateful night, the journey to return the egg, and his relationship with Rayla, goes.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (later on in story), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 643
Kudos: 695





	1. The Book

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely follows the shows events, but not a retelling of the same story. Will turn AU pretty fast. I am also tackling all three seasons at once instead of splitting this story into separate books. So this fic is eventually going to get ridiculously long.  
> Please note that this may be considered a mild 'M' rating, but it is still 'M' for a reason. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Callum would not let Soren shake him. King Harrow may have been his step-dad, but he loved the man as his true father. If he could not help through muscle, he was going to help through brains. He had the creativity to find a solution.

He _would_ find an answer to stop the assassins, and save the King.

It was this inner determination that lead him to the vast Katolis Library. He stood at the doors, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls, and considered where he could possibly start. All the sections on magic was out. He was not a mage, after all, and he was sure Lord Viren or Claudia would have found something by now if the answer lay in magic.

Battle tactics was also out. Again, there was a number of individuals with far more experience that could easily come up with better strategies than him. That included King Harrow.

Callum found his feet carrying him through the aisles, one by one.

Ancient folklore? No.

Weapons forging and enchantments? Also, no.

Xadian Botany? Pretty sure that if elves had a plant they were allergic to, they would probably also be carrying medicine to counter the effects.

He paused, did elves have allergies like humans do?

It was a simple question. Yet, he did not have an answer. The more he thought about it, he realized that he was woefully uninformed about the elves themselves. All he had to go off of was children's stories, and what he could remember about the history of the world. Both amount to 'elves are bad'. In fact, some of those stories contradicted one another. For example, a lot of stories mentioned elves as blood drinkers, but there were also a couple fairytales that mentioned elves as kind, benevolent beings that would do no harm to those pure of heart.

So, was the blood drinking the exception, or were they actually vegetarians?

The fact he did not know when he was a Prince- which meant the highest possible education one could be granted had been bestowed upon him- lead him to realize there were likely a lot of other people who also did not know. Suddenly, an idea started to spark in his thoughts.

Well, not an idea, per say, but certainly a direction to start his quest for an answer.

Everyone was so busy with how to protect the King, Callum wondered if anyone was looking at the problem itself. How can you hope to stop an unstoppable force when one does not even know the ins and outs of what's making them unstoppable? Okay, so they knew it had to do with the moon, and the magic it gave the Moonshadow elves. But, technically, more specifically, what makes a moonshadow elf different from other elves? How are they the same, for that matter? What made them, well, them?

With no time to waste, Callum hurried over to the aisle he knew to be about the people of Xadia. He browsed down the first aisle, and his shoulders slumped.

“Oh, boy,” he muttered. His emerald eyes trailed over the stacks upon stacks of literature regarding everything known to humanity about elves. There was no way he was going to read through all of this in the few hours left before sundown!

He clenched his fists, and set his features. No, he was not going to give up hope. He zipped through the rows picking out anything that seemed to promise legitimate facts specifically about moonshadow elves. His arms quickly became laden with a tower of tombs far heavier than he could actually carry, but that he forced himself to heft regardless.

“Boo!” a figure jumped out at him from another aisle.

With a surprised shout, Callum's collection fell from his grasp in a symphony of loud _thumps_. Many of which landing on his toes. With a hiss of pain, he held his poor abused foot. His balance never being the greatest forced him to jump on the leg still on the floor a couple of times before he braced himself against the book end.

“Oh no! Callum, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?” It took less than a second for Callum to recognize the sweet voice as that of his crush, Claudia. Said dark-haired mage was fussing in her bag, “Here. I should have something to take away the sting.”

Embarrassment flushed his face, “What? Oh, no, it's alright, Claudia. I'm okay.” He made a point of putting his foot back down, and standing properly. “See? Doesn't even hurt anymore.”

The digits throbbing inside his boots would highly disagree.

Claudia gave him an apologetic pout, “Are you sure?”

“Definitely!” he dramatically waved it off.

Just then, the librarian peeked around the corner. She put her finger to her lips, “Shh!”

“Sorry,” the pair of teens whispered.

The old woman gave them one more warning glare before once again melding into the vast shelves.

The young Prince scratched the back of his head, “So, uh, what are you doing here? You know, besides nearly giving me a heart attack.”

She giggled in response. The sound like the finest orchestral melody to his ears and brought a smile to his face.

“Oh, you know, just looking for spells and wards strong enough to beat Moonshadow elves during the full moon,” she flippantly shrugged. “What about you?”

He noticed her eyeing the books laying around them. Not wanting to face the librarian's ire for leaving books on the floor, he hurried to gather them up, “Actually, I'm trying to find something to stop them too. I thought if I could learn more about them, maybe I'd find something we were overlooking.”

Helping him gather the books, Claudia beamed, “That's a great idea!”

“Shh!” though she did not show herself this time, the annoyed shush was relatively close by to know the librarian was not far from them.

Claudia gave an annoyed glance over her shoulder, and then- lowering her volume- she asked, “Dad always says the best way to defeat your enemy is to know them.”

A small touch of pride bubbled in Callum's chest, “Exactly. There might be a simple answer to all of this, and we just don't know it.”

But Claudia's attention was already lost on flipping through pages of some of the books Callum had picked out. “Have you tried the encyclopedia of elves, yet?”

“Uh, no...” he thought about the various titles he had seen, “I don't remember seeing any elf encyclopedias.”

“Not elf encyclopedias. An encyclopedia about elves,” Claudia teased. She set the book in her hand on top of the rest of the pile. In a flurry of motion, she got up, grabbed Callum's hand, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him down the next aisle from the one he had been in. She stopped just as fast that it took all his balance to not run into her.

She hummed for a moment. Before Callum could also focus on the search, Claudia's eyes light up. “Up there,” she pointed up.

He followed where she was pointing to a collection of six massive books lining the top shelf. A frown formed on his face as he wondered who's bright idea it was to put books that big on the _top_ shelf. Based on the bowing on the shelf, he guessed each book had to be ten pounds a piece!

“Here, boost me up,” she moved her hand from his hand to his shoulder.

“Wait, what?” Callum squeaked. He seriously hoped he had heard her wrong. He could not believe she honestly thought he could possibly lift her up when he could barely hold up a stack of books.

“I need you to give me a boost,” Claudia lifted one foot to add to her point.

“Uh, wouldn't it be better to get a ladder?” he pointed over his shoulder, though there was not a ladder in sight.

“Pff, it's fine,” she waved with her free hand. “I trust you.”

Her trust in him was not the problem. “Uh, if you're sure,” he awkwardly squat down, and cupped his hands.

Claudia confidently stepped up into his hold. With a little bounce of her other foot, she latched her free hand onto the shelf. Her hold on the bookcase helped only the slightest with her weight. Callum clenched his jaw. He kept his eyes focused forward. Even if Claudia was wearing leggings, he was not going to look up her dress. Nope, he was going to respect his long time friend. He was not going to check out her backside no matter how perfect the angle was to do so.

His limbs shook in a way that set fire to his muscles. He vaguely registered her muttering above him.

“Let's see... Tidebound, Startouch... ah-ha! Moonshadow.”

She removed her other hand from Callum's shoulder to grab the thick binding. It was not clear if it was her yanking the book free, or his strength giving out. Either way, with a pair of surprised yelps, the teens fell backwards. There was a loud clatter of the contents of Claudia's bag spilling out around them, and the echo of books slapping to the ground from when she had tried to regain her balance seconds before falling.

The wind was forced from Callum's lungs when Claudia landed in a seated position on his chest. His entire body was suddenly stiff. If he was not already struggling to breath, being this up close and personal to his crush's posterior would definitely have winded him.

“Pepper snaps,” she grumbled. In the next second, she moved off of him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he wheezed. Was he blushing? It felt like he was blushing.

She sheepishly smiled as she helped him sit up, “That's twice in ten minutes my bad ideas hurt you.”

“Nah, it's alright,” Callum gave his best confident grin back. His voice, however, did not come out nearly as strong. It was clear by the sadness in her eyes that Claudia was feeling horribly guilty. His eyes fell on the book beside his feet. He hurried to scoop up the heavy thing, and held it up, “We did get what we were after.”

She gave his efforts a kind smile, “You're so sweet.”

Yep, definitely blushing. He looked away, and then seemed to notice the magic items strewn around them. He set the heavy book onto the floor, then made to gather some of the objects. “Here, let me help you get this cleaned up.”

“Oh right!” At least this time Claudia remembered to temper her volume.

Together, the pair piled the couple of fallen items next to Claudia's bag. Once nearly all of it was gathered, she started to shove things into the various pockets that she only seemed to understand what should go where. This left Callum to collect the last items that had rolled a bit further than their immediate reach. A vial with a living sun widow spider. A weird green grub thing. A folded piece of paper appearing to have notes written in Lord Viren's hand.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Callum quickly read what he could on the outside without unfolding the paper. His eyes traced out various runes and foreign words. In brackets beside those words was how to pronounce the unknown words. Finally, beside each rune was a brief description on what they did.

“They're spells,” Claudia's voice was practically in Callum's ear.

He jumped in place having been so focused on the treasures worth of information this little paper was giving him. His head snapped to the side to see she had been standing looking over his shoulder. An amused smile returned with a mild twinkle of mischief in her gaze.

“Sorry,” Callum swiftly held the paper and other items out to her. “I-I didn't mean to look.”

But her smile only grew showing she was entertained, not upset. “It's okay to be curious about magic, Callum.”

She took back her things. After stuffing the spider and grub in with the rest of her belongings, she unfolded the page, and held it out for him to read. Tentatively, he accepted the page back. There was no escaping the look of wonder on his features as he eagerly drank in the details that single paper had to offer him.

“These are sky spells,” Claudia happily explained. “At least, the versions that elves and dragons can preform. There is a way to do it using dark magic, but it's way easier just to use a Primal Stone.”

“What's a Primal Stone?” Callum glanced up.

“I'll show you,” once more, Claudia dove into her bag. After a few moments of rummaging, her brow furrowed. Her searching seemed to grow more fevered. Then, all at once, she stopped, and her head whipped back and forth clearing checking the book aisle floor. Callum also looked around to see if he could locate this missing magical stone. Alas, the aisle was clear of anything not a book.

She placed her hands on her hips as a thoughtful look crossed her face, “I could of swore I grabbed it.”

By her muttering, it was obvious she had meant it as a thought rather than a conversation piece. A half a second later, when she was giving the aisle one more look over, her eyes fell onto Callum as if only then remembering he was standing there.

“I guess I must have left it somewhere by mistake,” she sheepishly shrugged.

“That's okay,” he only just withheld the disappointment in his voice. “Maybe you could describe it for me. In case I see it.”

Apparently, she did not need any further prompting, “Well. It's this ancient relic that uses the magical energy from one the six primal sources. The one my dad has is specifically sky magic. It has a storm inside it. A _real_ storm. Captured from the top of Mount Kalik.”

“That sounds incredible,” a mix of awe, and slight disappoint at not getting to see the stone, coloured his voice. “You're so lucky you get to learn magic.”

“Well, you get to learn sword-fighting,” she tried to sound comforting, but it fell flat. Clearly, they both new magic was the better of the two.

“I'd switch places in a second,” he wishfully countered.

That's when Claudia suddenly stopped. A strange look crossed her face. It was only from his years of knowing her that he could tell she was in a deep thought.

Blink. She gasped, and her entire demeanour became excited. She tapped the side of her nose twice, then wagged that same finger at him. With an exuberant, gleeful squeak-like hum, she suddenly about faced, and took off. Before he could react, she reached the far end of the line of aisles, and disappeared to the left. He stood there, completely dumb-founded. Three seconds later, he barely caught a glimpse of her shooting off to the right side of the library this time.

Even though she was already gone, he tapped his own nose and then pointed at her direction with an attempt to be as overjoyed as her. In the next second, he deflated, “I do not understand girls.”

He realized that he still held the paper with the sky spells on it. With a small shrug; he would have to return it the next time he ran into Claudia. Besides, he had research to get started on. He tucked the re-folded paper into his pocket, and then set about neatly piling the fallen books. He would not risk the librarian's wrath for leaving them laying around like that.

Finishing his tasks, he finally hefted up the massive encyclopedia. Oh boy, was this thing heavy. It was just as big as his sketchbook, though, mercifully, not nearly as thick. With this much information in one book, maybe he would find something to help. Or at least be given a better idea of a direction.

He flipped open to the beginning. According to the introduction, the book would be divided into alphabetized sections: Accessories, Anatomy, Animals, Communication, Diet, Environment, Education, Family & Community, Illusion Magic, Moon Phases, Politics, and Rituals & Traditions. Callum considered each category. None of them really seemed to scream to him “assassins and how to defeat them”. Unless there was a way to settle this peacefully...

If that was the case, he decided 'communication' would be his best bet, and flipped along until he found the desired section.

_What if I told you that moonshadow elves are the most openly affectionate of all the elven races?_

Callum's brow furrowed with disbelief. Immediately, he started to question how helpful this book was actually going to be, but he read on.

_It seems unlikely, doesn't it? Often thanks to their primal gift of stealth (see 'Moon Phases') and their ideas on perception verses reality (see 'Education'), many people believe moonshadow elves to be elusive and secretive beings. Though they, like all elves, are naturally distrusting towards humans, they have proven themselves friendly, and quiet enjoy closeness, and (when appropriate) touching. It actually came as a great surprise that it was the moonshadows that accepted my presence and research the fastest._

_The reason for their affection nature is because it is a part of how they communicate._

_You see, moonshadow elves are quiet beings. It is unclear whether this is due to their extra sensitive hearing (see 'Anatomy'), or a side effect of their stealth. Regardless, when communicating with moonshadow elves, the highest majority of what they are telling someone is being conveyed through body language. One needs to perceive what the elf is saying just as much as actually listening to the words being used. Equally, one must be aware of their own body language as a moonshadow will judge your character and how trustworthy you are based on if what you are saying matches what your stance or gestures are showing them._

_In this section, we will discus:_

_How to read a moonshadow elf's body language._

_The art of speaking through proximity and touch_

_Beloved topics of discussion_

_Common insults, and how to tactfully avoid them._

_Why being a 'liar' is as bad as being a 'coward' (see 'Rituals & Traditions' for more detail on what makes one a 'coward' to a moonshadow elf, and the various punishments involved)._

Callum had to admit, his interest was peaked. So moonshadow elves were _friendly_? That was completely news to him. This just reaffirmed his earlier thought that maybe there was some simple way to save the king's life. Maybe they just needed to talk to the elves. Someone just needed to know _how_.

Ever hopeful, he settled on the floor with his back against a shelf, and continued reading.


	2. Father and Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually been working on this story for over a week, and have multiple chapters done. This was mostly so I could do semi-regular updates. But since they are already done, I thought I would celebrate making my AO3 account by posting two chapters at once.  
> You've probably noticed that a couple of lines straight from the show are used in the first two chapters. I will avoid doing this as much as possible, but there are just some things the show does too well that nothing I come up with could sound better. Rest assured, this is not going to be a continuous thing. In fact, pretty sure it won't happen again unless it's meant to be a comedic inside joke to fellow fans (and chapter 5, but that'll make sense when posted)

“I thought I might find you here.”

Callum's head snapped up from his reading. The motion instantly made him aware of how stiff his neck was. At the end of the aisle, his step-dad stood with a pair of familiar backpacks slung around his one arm. A smile was on his lips, but it was as sad as the distant look in his eyes.

“King Harrow,” Callum scrambled to get to his feet. Instantly, pins and needles stabbed through his legs. He quickly tried to rub feeling back into them while he wondered just how long he had been siting there. Based on the way the light stretched through the windows, it was probably already late afternoon, and swiftly heading into early evening.

The king chuckled as he cleared the distance between them, “It looks like you could use a stretch. Why don't you and I go for a walk?”

“Huh?” It took the young prince's mind a few seconds to catch up with all the new information buzzing inside his brain. “Oh, uh, yeah.”

He scooped up the encyclopedia, and stumbled forward.

“Here,” King Harrow offered out one of the bags. Callum recognized it at once as his own, and that it was packed. “I had the servants pack for you and Ezran when I was told that neither of you had done so yourselves.”

“Oh, right...” he sheepishly accepted the bag and tossed the straps over his shoulders. “I'm sorry. I guess I lost track of time.”

“That's alright,” Harrow moved to lead Callum to the front of the library. The prince was quick to fall in beside the king. “I've been guilty of getting lost in a good book from time to time, too. What were you reading?”

Callum held up the heavy tomb to show the title, “It's an encyclopedia about moonshadow elves. I was hoping that if we knew more about them, we might be able to make peace with them.”

For a moment, Harrow's eyes stared off ahead of him. It was clear he was watching his thoughts instead of actually seeing anything in his field of vision. Though he carried himself the same regal way he always had, there seemed to be an invisible weight on his shoulders. A frown had formed, and he heaved a sad sigh, “If only it were that simple.”

Callum narrowed his eyes. “It seems pretty simple to me. This book says that moonshadow elves can be incredibly friendly and loyal once you earn their trust. I bet we can just make peace with them. You wouldn't have to die. I'm sure the elves and dragons don't want to die. So, everyone wins.”

The king stopped. He reached out to place both hands in a firm, supportive grip on each of Callum's shoulders, “There are centuries of history. Generations of wrongs and crimes. On both sides.” King Harrow's voice cracked just the slightest, but then it returned to firm as he continued. “I am responsible for some of those wrongs. I have done terrible things. I thought they were necessary. Now, I don't know.”

His head lowered in shame with his words. For a moment, Callum was reminded of another time the king had looked so broken. The day he told him that his mother had died. The young Prince's throat tightened.

The display of vulnerability passed. Harrow once again met Callum's gaze, but, like before, it was far off. “But I do know I will pay the price for the choices I made.”

No. Callum refused to give up, “There has to be a way to make it right.”

Harrow shook his head, “It's too late now. What is done cannot be undone.”

He pushed Harrow's arms away, “But you're the king. You can do anything!”

There was a flurry of footsteps, and the librarian rounded the corner. She paused a moment clearly surprised to see the king. “Your Majesty,” she gave a low bow with a fist over her chest. “I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just, this is the third time today that Prince Callum has been disrespected the rules of the library.”

“It's alright, Madam Livre,” King Harrow magically returning to his kingly demeanour. “Prince Callum and I were just on our way out.”

Callum was quiet with his head hung low as he and the king headed for the exit. Then he stopped. “Madam Livre, I'd like to sign out this book, please.”

The old librarian pursed her lips into a sour scowl. For a heartbeat, he was pretty sure she was going to deny him. In fact, she might have, were it not for King Harrow's presence. “Just the one, and you are to return it by Monday.”

“I promise,” he happily agreed.

No other words were exchanged between the three until they arrived at the front counter. The librarian went about her book registration. Then she had Callum provide his signature, and the date. With all the paperwork complete, the prince gave his thanks, and the king gave a nod in goodbye.

“Before I forget,” Madam Livre reached below her desk. When her hands came into view, she appeared to be holding a strange glass ball. Various deep blues swirled inside. For the briefest second, there was even a tiny flash of light.

Callum's jaw dropped, “Hey, I think that's Claudia's primal ball.”

“I suspected it belonged to your friend from earlier. Would you please see to it this gets back to her?” she held out the mystical sphere.

“Yeah, of course,” he eagerly accepted it. The moment his fingers touched the smooth artifact, an odd tingling shot through him. Not like the prickly feeling he had just experienced in his legs from sitting too long. More like wearing an overly fluffy, cozy sweater, and then make the mistake of touching something metal. The hair on the back of his neck rose as though he was about to shiver. Except, the sensation was everywhere. Despite how weird the sensation was, it felt... right.

Like coming up for breath after diving into the bay during his family summer outings.

Like flying kites with Ezran in the court yard.

Like when a younger he and Soren would try to catch falling autumn leaves before they had the chance to hit the ground.

Like staying awake to watch a lightning storm, and feel the rumble of the thunder shake even the might stone tower.

It was... magic. There was really no other word for it. Simply beautiful, pure magic.

And then the trance was broken by Madam Livre speaking, “Would you also be as so kind as to remind her to stop leaving her magical items where someone can trip over them?”

The way she said it definitely gave him the impression that Claudia had likely left things laying around before. Which, given her track record of loosing things...

Still, Callum felt the need to defend her, “I don't think she did it on purpose.” Then he noticed the librarian's growing scowl. “Buuut I'll be sure to let her know what you said.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” she gave a bow. Without lifting from her bow, she added, “Is there any other way I can be of service to the royal family?”

King Harrow gave Callum a glance as if sightly asking if he needed anything else. After the boy shook his head, the king answered for them, “That will be all. Thank you for your assistance today.”

“It was my pleasure, your Highness.”

At last, they left the library. As much as Callum was tempted to focus on the ball in hand, he felt the weight of the book more. For now, he opted to stash the globe until the next time he saw Claudia.

They were barely down the hall before King Harrow spoke first, “I'm sorry to say that I must return to the throne room, shortly. It is nearly sunset, so I need you to find where your brother has hidden himself this time, and head for the Banther Lodge. I have asked your Aunt Amaya and the standing battalion to meet you there as soon as they can. Until they arrive, I'm counting on you to keep your brother safe.”

“But what about you?” Callum mind was back to the uncomfortable reality that he was running out of time to help. “Why don't you just come with us?”

Harrow gave a barely audible sigh, “For the same reason I can't send guards to escort you to the Lodge. I have no doubt that the moonshadow elves are watching the roads leading in and out of the Capitol. They won't think anything of two young boys heading off on their own. But they will notice a king. They know who I am because of what I did to their king.”

“What about a disguise?” he swiftly countered.

“And leave our people to face a threat caused by my choices?” His tone was not berating. It was nothing more than a simple stating of fact. But the way those words clawed at Callum's insides, he may as well have been slapped.

Harrow noticed the way his son shrank into himself as if scolded. This was not going the way he had hoped. Stopping at the junction where the two would need to part, he decided it was now or never that he tried to say what he needed to say. “Callum. Listen. I know I'm not your birth father. But I want you to know...”

He trailed off when Callum met his eyes. For a moment, it seemed the words would be left to join him to the grave. They could only stare at one another. It sunk in that this was well and truly the last time he was going to see his teenage son. He was not going to get to see him grow into a young man, or get to know how this sweet boy would use his talents. Sarai's son... _their_ son... he was going to loose yet another parent.

And then, said son slammed into him with a tight hug. It knocked away those sad thoughts. Instead, he returned the hug just as strong. If this was to be the last thing he shared with his boy, he was going to put years of unspoken love into this embrace.

“I know I'm just your step-son,” Callum's voice was cracked, and muffled into King Harrow's sleeve. “But... for as long as I can remember, you've always been my dad. I don't want you to die. Which is why I'm not just going to give up. I'll find a way we can make peace with the elves.”

As those few heartbroken words tumbled forth, King Harrow's head grew light. He could not help wondering how tears were falling when he felt this much elation. There was, however, one unruly thorn wanting to ruin this moment's bliss.

He pulled away from him so that he could meet his son eye to eye, “Callum. You are _more_ than _just_ my step-son. In my heart, you have _always_ been my son.”

It was painful to see the pure shock wash over the prince's features, “Wait, really?”

Harrow ignored the guilt for not saying this all sooner. It was out now, and, clearly, Callum needed to hear it. “Between you, and Ezran, there is no difference. You are _both_ my boys. And I love you both, equally.” Unable to watch the mix of emotions contorting the boy's face, the king pulled him back into another firm hug. When he hear sniffles, and could feel moisture soak into his shirt, he knew he would be unable to keep his composure. Thus, he focused on the words he always hoped he would one day get to say. “I love you, my son.”

“I...” sob. “love yo-” hiccup “you, too. Dad.”

They held one another with all their might. Joyful tears streaking down each of their faces. If this was goodbye, there would be no regrets. And if, by some miracle, King Harrow should live, then this moment would be a new beginning.

It felt like a mere heartbeat later, though it was actually ten minutes, when a guard approached them. He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Your Highness. I am sorry to interrupt.”

Reluctantly, father and son parted. The king made quick work of streaking away his tears with his thumb. He righted his posture, and face the guard expectantly.

The soldier made a respectful bow, “Your armour is ready for you, Sire. Lord Viren has also requested an audience.”

The lightness he had felt holding his son dissipated under the return of reality. “Have Lord Viren meet me in the Throne Room. I will be there in a few moments.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the guard gave another bow before excusing himself.

Meanwhile, much more embarrassed to be caught crying, Callum turned so that the guard would not be able to see his face. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. The mention of armour sent an arrow through his heart. This was it, then. Time was up.

But he did have one more hope.

“You should take this with you,” he offered out the encyclopedia. “You're the King. If anyone can make peace-”

“Callum,” King Harrow's voice was sullen, but firm. “Son. I know it may feel as though I am not doing enough. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, I am not. But _if_ there is any chance that peace can be made, I truly believe you would be the one to find it. In fact, I pray to the Heavens you do. Right now, Callum, you are still young. As a child, you hold more strength and freedom to change destiny than I can. More than any adult can. A child is freer than a King. That is how I know, no matter what comes of tonight... I know you will make the right choices.”

He finished his point by gently nudging the book back to Callum.

The prince gripped the binding in both hands. Determination etched itself across his face. “I will find an answer while at the Banther Lodge. And I'm going to tell you all about it when I see you this weekend, okay? We're going to make peace between humans and elves, together.”

King Harrow inwardly admired his son's tenacity, but the look was clouded by grief. He silently slipped Ezran's pack from his shoulder and offered it to Callum. After the prince took the bag, Harrow reached into his pocket, and pulled out a scroll.

“Don't open this until you reach the Banther Lodge,” he instructed.

Curious, Callum set down Ezran's bag so he could accept the parchment while balancing the heavy encyclopedia. He observed the familiar red seal baring Katolis' famous two towers, the Brothers. “A letter?”

“I was not sure if I would get the chance to tell you everything I had to say. So, I've written the most important things in here.” Then the tiniest bit of King Harrow's familiar playfulness sparkled in his deep eyes. “It also includes clues on how to find a special surprise I've left for you at the Lodge.”

And there it was. The king could not keep himself from smiling at his son's wide eyed wonder. “A surprise? What is it?”

Harrow chuckled, “If I wanted to ruin the surprise, I would not have gone through the trouble of hiding it in the first place. You'll just have to find out after you and Ezran make it to the Lodge. Who knows? Maybe the surprise might even help you with your quest towards peace.”

Truthfully, he was using the surprise to encourage Callum to find Ezran, and head out for the lodge, as soon as possible. Still, there was also some selfishness in wanting to see the boy become enthusiastically inquisitive one more time.

“Now then, there are things I need to see to, and you have a little brother to find. And yes, I have already had the bakery and kitchens checked. It seems wherever he's scampered off to this time, he has taken a healthy stack of jelly tarts with him.”

Callum snickered, “Yeah, I'm pretty sure he took an entire tray this morning.”

The two shared light laughter between them. The mirth passed, and the hallway grew silent. Father and son were once again locked onto one another's gazes. Neither wanted to be the first to look away.

Alas, as the adult, it was King Harrow who finally broke the stand off. “Take care of your brother.”

“I will,” Callum nodded. “Just, stay safe in the meantime, okay?”

“Rest assured, so long as there is breath in my body, I will be fighting to return to you boys,” he agreed. Then, tentatively, he added, “Goodbye, son.”

Against the emotional current inside him, a spark of joy lit Callum's heart, “Bye... Dad.”


	3. The First Meeting

It turns out, scaling a solid stone cliff, fallowed by equally stony fortress walls, tended to turn one's arms into noodles. Very painful noodles. Not nearly as bad as the burning in her chest as she tried to catch her breath. Staggering to her feet, Rayla thanked the Primals that this part of the battlement was not currently being patrolled. She spared the forest- or more accurately, the camp hidden within- a long glance, and solemnly vowed to prove Runaan wrong. After which, she pulled up her hood, and raced into the nearest tower.

She easily slipped her way through the halls. It was tricky, because she had to rely on speed instead of her assassin armour's nature camouflage. Someone was bound to spot vibrant greens against all this red and gold furnishings. Heavy footsteps caught her attention. The tapestry she stood beside at that moment was definitely poor cover. She risked a leap across the hall to the small bit of shadow a support pillar and decorative armour provided.

“Ez? Is that you?” a boy's voice from the next hallway over called out.

Ez? Rayla strained her focus as her heart beat rapidly against her ribs. She wondered if this human was looking for Prince Ezran. Of course he was, she inwardly scolded. Really, how many different human names could be shortened to 'Ez'? Then this boy could lead her to one of her targets.

She sized up the individual that unknowingly was walking her direction. He was about her height. As his voice had already indicated, he was young. His features were still heavily carrying a boy's softness, but there was the subtle indication he was also well into his adolescence. The bulk of his blue jacket and loose pants hide his frame, so there was no telling if he was fit or a human jelly cake. Based on his loud walk, and the way he struggled to carry the pack on his back, though...

Rayla smirked at her luck. There was no doubt in her mind she could easily take this human down. _And_ he seemed to be familiar with her target to completely drop the Prince title, and call Ezran by a pet name. The boy was feet from her hiding spot. She noticed fine, regal red clothing peaking from his open jacket. A member of the royal family, then? There was something during the briefing back in Xadia about there being two Princes, but she could not remember if Ezran was the younger or older brother.

She hoped he was the older. It would make sense since Ezran was Crown Prince. If he really was older than the boy passing her without notice, well... that would be a relief. She knew going into this that there would be the unpleasantness of killing someone around her age or younger. Still, the idea of killing a possibly young child had not settled well wit her, or any of her band. Now, it was time to scare this kid into telling her where to find her target.

She had barely slipped out of her hiding spot to softly walk behind the boy when hurried steps echoed up ahead. Rayla had to bite back a curse as she rushed for the next nearest hiding spot; a large, beige curtain. She had to press herself flat against the wall for the new comer not to spot her, so it left her without a line of sight on the possible brother Prince.

Then a child's voice excitedly rang out, and her heart dropped, “Callum!”

Please don't be Ezran, Rayla's mind begged. Please! Don't be...

“Ez, where have you been? I've been searching all over for you.”

More then a few choice swears bounced about her thoughts. She tried to force down the uncomfortable knot in her stomach. One of her targets was paces from her hiding place with only the second Prince to protect him. It would be laughably easy to strike. Her hands grasped the handles of her butterfly swords.

Not yet, her mind screamed. Except, she knew there was no reason to wait. She was stalling. Runaan's earlier words about her hesitating rung in her ears. They were so loud she almost did not catch the boys' conversation.

“Callum! You're never going to guess what I found!”

“Here. You can tell me on the way to the Banther Lodge.”

“Wait. You'll want to see it once I tell you.”

A heavy sigh, “Okay, fine. What did you find?”

“Uh-uh. You gotta guess.”

“Ez, we really don't have time-”

“ _Please_ , Callum!”

“Three guesses. After that, just tell me what it is, and we can get going. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Alright. Uh? A giant jelly tart?”

Ezran's playful laugh caused Rayla to only grip harder on her weapons, “That would be pretty amazing. But no. It's even better than a jelly tart.”

“Another sky hound pup? You know dad will never let us keep it.”

She cocked an eyebrow at this; what kind of humans wanted to keep a sky hound? They regularly carry off livestock, and small children. Or were sky hounds different in the human lands than in Xadia? Was she going to discover they have a pet banther hidden around here somewhere, too? She smirked at her own inner joke. Humans were weird.

“Well, I'm pretty sure it can fly, but I know it's not a sky hound.”

“Dad's not going to let you keep a pygmy hawk, either.”

Rayla had to hold back a snicker. For a brief second, she was taken back to her own childhood, and Ethari warning her that her parents would not approve of the latest critter she had brought home. She bet this kid would love adoraburrs...

Realizing where her thoughts were, she shook her head. Finding common ground with an enemy would only make it harder to do her duty. She had to act now! Steeling her heart, she charged out of her hiding place. In the seconds she had to visually consider her attack, she realized she would need to make a leap to get past the older Prince. Which gave them time to notice her, and react. There was no room for error.

“It's a dragon-” but his words were cut short with a surprised gasp.

She was already mid-spring when his words had reached her. She unintentionally shift her body weight the wrong way. It was only years of training that let her gracefully correct her misstep while soaring through the air. The manoeuvre caused her to come up short, and she landed a hair's width away from the now turned brother.

Well, this was embarrassing. Not just because she had faltered, but also because the momentum almost sent her stumbling into this Callum boy. She caught herself, of course, but now they were uncomfortably close. Close enough that her field of vision was his shocked face. She could feel his breath hitching along side her own. Close enough she could make out the details of his eyelashes.

Huh... His eyes were a lovely shade of green.

Her feet were already zipping her back a couple paces. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. It had meant to be to intimidate them, but the uncomfortable blush just made her look grumpy.

Callum, for his part, was impersonating a plank board with how his entire body locked up. His mouth clamped shut in a firm line, and his eyes were the size of the full moon. He could not seem to pinpoint if he should be surprised, afraid, or embarrassed. All of the above sounded like a good plan.

And then Ezran peaked from behind his brother. His baby blues looked back and forth between the pair before stopping on her. “Why did you just kiss him?”

The heat radiating in Rayla's face only grew, “Ah didn' kiss him!”

“It sure looked like you did,” the boy innocently countered. Though his brow furrowed in confusion, there was still a playful smile on his face.

In the young Prince's arms, a strange yellow pet croaked as though agreeing.

Like a spell was broken, Callum snapped to attention and started to widely waving his arms, “Ez. No. Just... no. She didn't kiss me. She was just... really close to?” Now he was studying her with unasked questions.

Frustrated, and needing something to salvage the situation, Rayla flipped down her hood. As expected, both boys were instantly surprised. Much to her dismay, however, neither appeared frightened. In fact, the older one almost appeared fascinated. She wondered if he still believed she had just tried to kiss him. Clearly, he did not recognize her has dangerous.

She made a show of readying her posture and blades as though she was about to strike. The younger recognized the threat. With a gasp he stood a little closer behind his brother. As for said brother, there was an instinctive twitch of his hand to shield Ezran. For a moment, his face contorted into fear. Then he took a deep breath, and did something that shocked the moonlight out of Rayla.

She could not stop her jaw from falling open. Her mind did not want to accept what she was seeing. She checked and re-checked his stance. The way his feet were parted indicating he would not be swayed. His shoulders relaxed, but his back straight. He even tilted his head just a little to expose his neck. Maybe it was a quirk? She thought. There was just no way a human would know what that meant to a moonshadow elf!

But then he proved the action was deliberate as he raised his left hand- palm up- as though offering something. “I was mistaken.”

Subconsciously, her own threat pose had softened. His eyes did not waver from her. There was fear there through the way his Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp. Yet, there was gentleness in his expression. She would dare to guess he looked... hopeful? Hopeful about what?

That he was using a moonshadow custom to throw her off?

That he had successfully tricked her?

Then a tiny voice inside her added it's two coins worth; maybe he was just hopeful that she would actually accept the apology, and not cut him down where he stood.

Based on what she could see of the younger brother, Ezran did not seem to know what Callum was doing. This was not a human practice, then.

“Wha' are y'u doin'?” she hissed.

The bit of confidence Callum had been showing was swiftly replaced by doubt. He was tensing up which removed some of the implications of the stance. “I'm, uh, apologizing for offending your honour?”

So he really did know what that stance meant. “Ah can see tha',” she huffed and raised a sword to point at him. “How do _y'u_ know wha' tha' means?!”

“Oh,” he was starting to relax again. “I read it in a book about moonshadow elves. Was I doing it wrong?”

“Well... no.” She loathed to admit it, but now she was fascinated. Then an inner voice that resembled Runaan's scoffed. 'You're just stalling, again.'

“Ohh,” Ezran's mouth took on a perfect 'o'. Then, much to her horror, he hurried to copy his brother's stance while still balancing his pet in his other arm. “I'm sorry, too.”

To him, the gesture was completely innocent. His posture was way more relaxed than it should be. He was tilting his head, but it just made him look like a curious puppy. Those wide, bright eyes were unsure, but he trusted his brother's judgment. The kind smile he bore, however, was genuine.

Moon help her! How was she supposed to kill this little kid?!

Callum tilted towards Ezran, and whispered from the side of his mouth, “You're supposed to say 'I was mistaken'.”

“Ye're also suppose ta only do it for serious offences,” she instinctively corrected. Having them both openly take on the most sacred of moonshadow apologies over a simple misunderstanding would have been funny. Normally, she would have even teased them for it. If she was not as completely bewildered as she was now, that is.

“Well, you were threatening us, so I thought it was a serious offence,” Callum momentarily waved his hands towards her in a 'have you noticed the way you're standing' motion. But then he corrected himself back to the apology stand.

That was a fair point.

“Ah... Ah mean...” she could feel herself getting more flustered. This was not going well. They were being friendly with her. If they had attacked, or called for help, or ran away, she could stay focused on her mission. Now she was at a complete loss for how to react.

“But we're already apologizing,” Ezran said thoughtfully. “So, do you forgive us?”

Rayla's mouth moved a couple times as though trying to talk, but no words came out. They were just standing there... expectantly watching her! “Fine. Yeah. Ah forgive y'u.”

It was just a stupid misunderstanding after all. It did not help matters that both Princes eagerly brightened. They were smiling at her, for moon's sake! Sweet Primals, this was a disaster.

“Sooo, if you weren't trying to kiss Callum, what were you doing?” Ezran cautiously inquired.

Merciful Moon! Finally something to get back on track.

“Ah _was_ abou' ta attack, but then ah heard _y'u_ say somethin' about findin' a dragon,” she pointed a blade towards Ezran for emphasis.

Callum visibly fidgeted. He scratched the back of his head, “Oh, uh. Wow. Well, thanks. For, you know, not attacking me.”

Rayla ignored the twinge of guilt, and decided to tease instead. She set one blade tip against the ground to lean on, and causally set the other to rest over her shoulders. “Ye're welcome. Now, wha' were y'u sayin' abou' a dragon?”

“Uh...” Ezran looked to his brother. His eyes asking if Callum thought that he should say something or not.

The older boy gave a half-shrug in a universal 'why not?'

“I didn't say dragon. I was saying I found a dragon _egg_ ,” he smiled up at her. The spark of excitement towards his discovery was returning to his eyes.

Both Rayla and Callum became visibly flabbergasted.

“Tha'... Tha's impossible,” her mind raced at a shadowpaw's speed. All dragon eggs were precious to Xadia because how few were born every year. Even those of non-arch dragons were protected, and celebrated. Only two had been laid last summer; one successfully hatched, and the other destroyed. At least, everyone believed it was destroyed... Unless...

While Rayla was silent, Callum was continuing the conversation, “Yeah, I mean. Where would someone even hide a dragon egg without the whole castle knowing?”

“Lord Viren has it in his secret lair,” Ezran did not seem to loose his enthusiasm.

Callum only grew more confused, “Lord Viren has a secret lair?”

Ezran gave a firm nod, “Yep! It's this creepy, scary, dungeon-y place behind that weird picture in his study. The one with the lady holding a sheep.”

The description of where the egg was hidden caused an uncomfortable stone to drop in Rayla's stomach. “Which tower is the one with the picture?”

“It's this way,” Callum pointed with both hands towards the stairway Ezran had just come from. “Here, we'll take you to it.”

“Oh no ye don'. Ah'm no' goin' near some secret dungeon with a pair of humans,” she glowered at them. There was also the fact she did not want to be around this child prince anymore, but they did not need to know that part.

It was much to her annoyance that the older Prince did not back down to her intimidation, “But it'll be safer and faster to go with us.”

“And it took me over a month to figure out the door's puzzle,” Ezran swiftly added. “So you'll need my help to get in.”

The determination in both their faces made it clear they would continue to argue their point if she fought them. There was no time for this.

“Fine. Show me where this egg is at,” she grumbled.

“Okay. But first, you have to hide your weapons,” Callum instructed as he dropped his bag to the ground. He did not seem to be paying attention to if she was actually stowing her blades or not as he rummaged through his pack.

Rayla made a glance behind herself just to be sure this was not some trick to allow guards to sneak up on her. The hall was surprisingly clear save for the three of them, and the grumpy frog creature. Curiosity got the better of her. She closed and stored her swords in their holster on her back. By the time she had returned her attention to the princes, Callum was pulling some type of fabric from his bag.

“Here, put this on,” he offered out the long, black cloak with golden pattern.

Her eyes shifted between him and the cloak for a moment. From what she could tell, he appeared genuinely trying to help her. Of course, that could be a lie. Humans were supposed to be horrible, backstabbers that would lie about anything if there was something to gain from it. Then her violet gaze briefly caught sight of Ezran watching her expectantly. His face was too easy to read. She doubted he had a devious bone in his body.

With a heavy sigh, she accepted the cloak. Once secured over her shoulders, and the hood raised over her horns and ears, she met the older brother's gaze. He gave her a once over while holding his chin.

“Now you just have to keep anyone from seeing your hands,” he proudly grinned. Then he snatched her hand in his. “Come on.”

Even when she indicated that she would follow without his hold, Callum's hand remained clasped to hers. She supposed he was trying to help hide the fact she had four digits instead of five. There was the bonus that his gloved fingers were much warmer than her own. Thus, she did not make any peep towards a protest. Ezran only gave a mildly curious look at their held hands before shrugging and running after them.

“So, what's your name, by the way?” Callum called over his shoulder.

Deciding there was no harm in it, she carefully answered, “Rayla.”

“Well, its nice to meet you, Rayla. I'm Callum, and this is my brother, Ezran,” he waved his free hand between the two of them confirming who was who.

“And don't forget Bait,” Ezran held up his yellow and blue frog pet thing.

Rayla did not bother to mention that she had already figured out their identities. Except for Bait, that is. “Uh, good to meet y'u, too.”

The moment of truth on if they would betray her or not came when the trio exited the stairwell. The dusk sunlight reflected off two fully plated soldiers. They glanced up at the rapidly approaching group. Rayla could feel her limbs tense in preparation to attack or flee if need be. She had not even realized she was squeezing Callum's hand until he gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze back.

“Quick! Back in the hallway! There's something chasing us!” he called out.

Even though she knew better, Rayla was tempted to look behind her to see if they really were being pursued. It would not hurt for the illusion, though. She made a show of looking back. Then, in her best human voice impression, shouted, “It's horrible! It tried to bite me!”

If the guards noticed a mild accent to her words, they did not react. Already they were charging past the kids with their swords at the ready. Relieved smiles covered each of their faces when the guards vanished into the hall they had already come from.

Okay, she will admit it. These humans were proving to be trustworthy. Completely weird as far as humans go, but trustworthy. Moon above, this was going to be an interesting night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had intended to wait a week before posting the next chapter so as to space them out and allow me time to write ahead. Except I got such a positive response from the first two that I just could not help myself. Hope you guys like it!


	4. Tight Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are AMAZING. The amount of feed back, and support just makes my heart sing. I spent all day today trying to finish writing chapters 8 and 9 so that I was still ahead, and could get away with giving you another early update. I hope you all enjoy :)

The small crew came to a sudden halt by a set of doors. One door sat ajar, allowing voices to drift out.

“You look so...happy in this portrait,” a young, feminine voice finished.

“I was,” a man's solemn voice followed after. “We posed for this a few days after King Harrow's coronation.”

Whatever else was said was lost when Callum tugged her and Ezran away from the door. “We gotta hide,” he frantically whispered.

“This way,” Ezran's voice was just as quiet. He was already zipping towards a single slim door just a few paces back.

Opening the door revealed a storage room. Several shelves lined with plants being warmed by false sunlight from a ruin carved in the stone ceiling. Another shelf bore various types of geodes, filled vials, and couple magical relics. Finally, the last was a bookshelf filled so full that some books even cluttered on a pile on the ground.

They filed into the tight remaining space. Closing the door proved a chore that only squished them all in tighter. Clearly the space was intended to only let one person comfortably stand inside at a time.

“Stop squishing me,” Ezran mumbled from the back of the closet. Bait gave a disgruntled croak as it turned red.

“Just as soon as yer brother stops squishin' me,” Rayla hissed back. How she ended up in the middle of the two boys was anyone's guess.

“Maybe this was a bad spot to hide,” Callum shifted the best he could. His back was firmly against the wooden door. His sketchbook dug into one side, and the encyclopedia in his bag was dangerously close to knocking him in the unmentionables. The upper part of his front was pressed against Rayla's back. The metal from her blades in their holster jabbed against his chest, and he became abundantly aware that if they sprung out, he would be sliced the ribbons.

“Y'u think?” the young elf glared. Her shoulder was then shoved into a shelf as Ezran squirmed against her.

“Hold on. I need to reach the back door,” he continued to wiggle towards one corner. This only jammed the teens closer into one another.

“What back door?” Callum tried to tilt his head to get a better view of the closet space. The three shelves took up all three walls. There could not possibly be another door in here.

“Wha' is pokin' mah hip?” Rayla shifted away from the offending item the best she could while also trying to look down. Unfortunately, that made her covered horn collide with the side of Callum's head.

“Ow,” he raised his hand to hold the new sore spot on his temple. At least, that was what he tried to do. When Rayla had shifted, she had slightly turned in place. Combined with an ill timed push from Ezran trying to slip into a space between the plant shelf and the wall, and Callum's hand was stuck between the bookshelf and the elf.

It turned out that soft looking fabric over her torso was actually hard armour. He might have pondered how it moved like thick leather, but felt like cold steel were it not for where on the armour his hand had been trapped.

“Sorry,” Callum tried to move his hand, but it was still pinned in place. His face only became way more heated. Figures that the first time he gets to feel up a girl, and it's an accident. He could not even explore the gentle curve properly, because, again, it was an accident. He inwardly hoped she would understand that once they were free, and _not_ cut off his fingers.

“Stop tha'. Ye're makin' it worse.” She had not meant for her voice to come out as loud as it did. Her embarrassment had unintentionally increased her volume. Go figure the first time a guy has his hand on her breast, and it's not intentional nor enjoyable.

Mercifully, whatever Ezran was doing suddenly gave the pair more space. Twisting on her toes, Rayla was able to turn until her front was against Callum's. Feeling that this was not any better, she quickly curled her arms between them. Meeting each other's eyes, they sported matching blushes. Their faces were not as close to one another as they had been earlier, but it was still close enough to feel each of their breaths.

Even with the hood casting a shadow over her, Callum could make out each detail of Rayla's face. The way her skin hinted at mauve instead of human peach. The way the marks under her eyes seamlessly matched one another and accentuated her bright, beautiful eyes. Her eyebrows as stark silver-white as her hair beneath the hood. The closeness reminded him of the earlier misunderstanding so much that he unintentionally let his gaze fall on her lips.

They looked soft. Somehow not chapped like his own despite the time of year. He had remembered how cool her hand had been in his own. He wondered if her lips would be the same.

It had only been a second before he corrected himself. His attention snapped back to the violet gems that made her eyes. She was intently watching him. Her eyes wide, her posture ridged, and the mild blush from before had intensified. There was no doubt in his mind she had caught his slip.

Right, because moonshadow elves speak just as much with body language as words, he inwardly reminded himself. She probably thought he was hitting on her.

He opened his mouth to give another apology when he was suddenly without support on his back. He dropped his bag, and his hands reached out to grab for something to keep himself from falling, but he was not fast enough. He landed hard on his back. His head briefly slamming against the stone floor, jarring his thoughts.

Rayla had tried to keep them both upright by holding the collar of Callum's red shirt. Except she had miscalculated her balance in the tight space. All her action did was break a clasp, and drag her down with him. She, at least, was able to manoeuvre her legs so that not all of her body weight landed on the poor squishy human. That did, however, mean that once they landed, she was straddling his hips. Oh this would look bad. She wondered if it would be too much to hope the door had opened on its own, and there was not actually anyone around to see.

“What do you think you're doing in my supply closet?!” the man's voice from earlier boomed.

Of course, it was.

From his place on the ground, Callum could easily look up into the angry face of the voice's owner. “Lord Viren! Uh, hi... um...”

Rayla glanced to the side. Her hood hide the man from her view, but she did see what looked like fine robes, high end shoes, and an intricate silver cane. Or was it a staff? Either way, the aura this guy gave off... He was definitely the guy keeping a dragon egg in some secret dungeon. Cold dread shot through her nerves. She hurried to hug the disguise cloak tightly around herself so the man could not see her hands or clothing.

Lord Viren's rage shifted to disbelief, “Prince Callum? You're supposed to be at the Banther Lodge.”

Sitting up, Callum rubbed the sore part of the back of his head. The pain was nothing compared to the panicked thumping in his ears. “I know. I was, er... just, uh... you know...”

Oh that sounded about as bad as this looked. Once again donning her 'human' accent, Rayla hurried to cover, “Saying goodbye!”

She would have face-palmed herself if she was not trying to keep her hands hidden. Yeah, _that_ was not going to leave _any_ misunderstandings, what so ever, she inwardly scolded.

“What kind of goodbye involves sneaking into a closet?” venom dripped with every word from the figure standing several paces down the hall. Rayla dared to look at the new comer. The distance between them would allow the hood's shadow to keep her more obvious elven features from being noticed.

The stranger was a young woman no older than her and Callum. She stood with her arms crossed. One black eyebrow raised and her nose crinkling with a barely withheld sneer. Rayla glared at the way this woman dared to look at her like one would trash. She had no idea who this human thought she was, but she needed to be taken down a few pegs.

“Wha' kind do y'u think?” the assassin's accent momentarily slipped.

Thankfully, the slip had gone by the other girl's notice. It was satisfying to watch the human's judgmental look shatter into one of shock. Rayla almost felt bad upon seeing utter heartbreak shimmering in the other girl's green eyes. That was until the dark haired woman opened her mouth.

“Well, it's hard to say,” Claudia bit back with her eyes turning to dark fire. Being that she is a dark mage, it should be noted that this was not literal. “I mean, Callum is a complete gentleman towards _ladies_.”

Why that...

“Oh, he's a gentleman, alright. _Especially_ to a _lady_.” Rayla mentally pat herself on the back for being able to keep her face masked in a challenge. The only indication of her horrified, embarrassment to her own words was the red tinge of her cheeks.

Said Prince, however, was more red than a sun-ripened tomato. His eyes darted back and forth between the girls. His mouth flailing with attempts to speak, but all that came out was uncomfortable squeaks. It did not help matters that Rayla had yet to move off of him from their fall.

He would never in his life be more grateful for Lord Viren than in that moment.

“Girls, that's enough,” his voice firm with that age-old 'father putting his foot down' tone.

The pair continued to glare at one another, but both were silent.

“Claudia. Please, leave us,” Lord Viren's tone was just a bit softer.

Claudia's facade fell, “But Dad-”

“No 'but's. It's not our place to judge the Prince's choice in... company,” he spat the last word making it clear he was thinking the same thing as his daughter. “I do, however, need to have a few words with them that I would rather you remain innocent of.”

“Dad! I'm not a little kid,” she whined very much like a child she was insisting she was not.

He raised his eyebrow with a silent look that he would not be swayed. Nor did he appreciate her back talking him.

Claudia huffed, “Fine!”

She stormed off down the hall. When she passed the others, she pointed two fingers at her own eyes. Then swiftly turned those fingers towards Rayla, backed with a hard stare. Lord Viren gave his daughter a warning look which prompted her to leave. Not a word was spoken as Claudia's footsteps faded into the distance. While they did, the remaining teens wordlessly agreed to finally untangle themselves. Rayla subtly slid Callum's bag to him.

Moon above, what did he have in there that was so heavy?

When the last of his daughter's steps could be heard, Lord Viren's head snapped with a cold stare to the two on the floor. “Get up,” he growled.

Callum scrambled to his feet. Rayla, not wanting to be told what to do by a human, but also knowing not to draw any more attention on herself, got up at a more leisurely pace. Once more she was careful to keep her hands hidden, and the cloak closed to not reveal her uniform.

Though more subdued than his daughter's look had been, Lord Viren was watching the pair with the same level of disgust she had. “How old are you?”

Admittedly, that was not what she was expecting to come out of the stern looking man. “Uh... fifteen.”

The mage nodded as if confirming something to himself, “And I assume you've had your moon cycle by now?”

Fear clenched her heart. For several heartbeats, she was certain her disguise had not worked. She nervously grinned, really laid on her human impression, and played dumb, “What? I have no idea what you are talking about? What's this 'moon cycle' thing?”

After all, humans do not have 'moon cycles' like elves do. Then she glanced at Callum, and how he was refusing to meet her eyes. He was shifting from one foot to the next. In fact, he looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

Huh... so, maybe they do?

Lord Viren's nostrils flared, “You're monthly bleeding, girl. I am asking you if you have reached womanhood, yet.”

“Oh. Tha',” now she was fiddling in place. With how much she had been blushing this evening, it was a wonder she was not light-headed. “Yeah. Ah have.”

The mage turned to enter his storage space. He grabbed something out of view, then turned back to them.

“Here,” he shoved the item into Callum's hands.

It turned out to be a palm sized glass bottle. Inside was a yellow-orange liquid that filled about half of it. Even through the glass, it bore a heavy floral aroma. Both teens curiously looked over the mystery gift. Noting that neither of them appeared to know what it was, Viren gave an exasperated sigh.

He rubbed along his eyebrows, finishing with a pinch to his nose, “Please tell me one of you knows what silphium elixir is for.” When he looked up, he was relieved to find both children were wide eyed and vigorously nodding. “Good. Mercy only knows this kingdom doesn't need a scandal.” He closed the door, and then gathered the basket he had left laying behind it. He gave them each one more pointed stare as he added, “Let me make one thing very clear to you both. If I catch either of you in my closet for any reason ever again, you'll find that the parts you need to ' _say goodbye_ ' to each other will suddenly, and painfully, rot off or out of your bodies. Am I understood?”

“Yep.” The chill running through Rayla's spin had her fingers twitching with the need to grab her blades.

“Completely understood,” Callum nervously raised his hands in a surrender pose.

“Excellent,” a coy smile lined the adult's lips. “Now then, I believe we all have somewhere to be. I will leave the two of you make yourself presentable. I do expect you to be scarce upon my return.”

He did not wait for a response. Instead, he left behind the pair to stew in their embarrassment. As he walked away, he was glad for one turn out to discovering the Prince and his... lady-friend. At long last, there was something to help shake Claudia of her childish crush on the boy. In his opinion, his daughter deserved someone with more prestige than Katolis' step-prince.

Meanwhile, Prince Ezran slowly opened the door to Viren's study. He peaked out at the still shocked pair standing in the hallway. “Psst. Callum.”

Callum jumped in place. Rayla had already whipped herself around before he realized he should do the same. “Ez. How did you get in there?”

“The back door,” he said as though it were obvious. Which, considering he was the only one that had not just been caught, it really should have been. “Come on. The egg is this way.”

Rayla's stance relaxed, and she breathed a sigh of relief, “Let's go get it, and get out o' here.”

They followed Ezran into the room, making sure to carefully close the door behind them. They crossed into the passage behind the painting. Then, once the opening was securely closed, Ezran turned to his brother with unbridled curiosity. “So, what's silphium elixir for?”

Callum looked down at the offending bottle like it was poison.

“No time, now,” Rayla stepped in much to his relief. “This way, right?”

She took off down the only possible direction they could go.

“Hey, wait for us!” Ezran scooped up Bait, who had been waiting in the tunnel, and chased after.

Callum followed, too. Part of him was excited to actually get to see a real dragon egg in person. The other part was thankful this was almost over. This had been a weird day, and he was looking forward to things returning to normal by morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes, I did have WAY too much fun with this chapter. Plus, you know, an accidental boob grab to help tie folks over until I can finally get into the more adult content (which, admittedly, is not going to be for some time).  
> On the discussion about said adult content: There is going to be a lot of teasing, innuendos, and discussing the act. The encyclopedia alone will be worthy of this story's M rating. I'm still debating if the characters actual sexual encounters will be left implied, or mildly touched up. There is plot purpose for it, so it'll happen. It's just still up in the air how comfortable I'll be with details seeing as the characters are the ages they are. Thoughts on the matter are welcomed, of course :)


	5. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost midnight here, which means it's almost Thursday. So, I'm going to pretend I met my goal this time. Thank you again, everyone, for your continued love and support. You inspire me in so many ways. If I finish chapters 11 and 12 before Sunday, I'll post the next chapter early.  
> Honestly, I may still do it because you guys are so wonderful.

“Rock, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone,” Ezran mumbled as he pressed the corresponding 'rock' or 'stone'.

“Wait, what's the difference between the rocks and the stone?” Callum cut in.

Rayla smack his shoulder, “Don' break his concentration.”

“What? It's a good question,” he waved his arms out to his brother as if he were evidence towards asking.

“Ugh! You made me do stone instead of rock!” Ezran glowered at his brother. The young prince turned back around.

From the corner of her eyes, Rayla smirked at Callum, “Ah told y'u so.”

Ezran's hand stilled a moment. When it was clear he had lost his place, he turned his glare on her. “Grr, you're not helping either!”

The young assassin was a bit taken back to be on the receiving end of a child's scolding. She kept quiet as the youngest set about his work one more time. Callum put his fist over his mouth to avoid snickering. She did not miss the motion, and paid him a warning glare. He seemed to heed it as the amusement vanished from his face.

A loud clanking rumbled beneath their feet. The pair jumped back as a set of stairs winded into a spiral downward.

“Wow,” Callum's awe was little more than a whisper.

Ezran lead the way with Bait in his arms. Callum was close behind him. Rayla, however, hesitated at the top of the stairwell. She had no idea what waited for her down there. By now, she knew the boys would not steer her wrong. Twice they had had the chance to betray her, and did not. What lay ahead, however, was the lair of a dark mage. That in itself did not bode well.

How had Ezran described the place? “Creepy, scary, dungeon-y”?

“Rayla, are you coming?” Ezran's voice carried up to her.

Trusting her own instincts, she finally, carefully descended. She really had not expected a child's description of the horror laying in this room to be considered an understatement. Bone, horns, and skulls lined the shelves. A number of creatures living and dead, suspended inside various glassware. There was a dungeon cage to the left, but it was filled with crates that she shuddered to think about what could be hidden within that needed to be locked and covered. Chains hung from various points that it was hard to tell if this had been a dungeon changed to a dark magic lair. Or if some of the things that happened down here required dungeon equipment. There were tools along one wall that could function for either case.

“Scruffle?” Callum's half whimper caught her attention.

The boy in question had knelt down beside a bookshelf housing the few books this room had. Along with entire jars of various types of poisons. Callum's attention was not on the shelf, though. Instead, he was looking down in horrified disbelief at a taxidermy sky hound pup.

“It can't be!” Ezran gasped. “Lord Viren said that Scruffle was living with his new friends in a wild pack.”

“It is him,” Callum touched the little creature's snout. “There's the little white patch under his nose.”

Bait turned a stone grey while Ezran mournfully set his hand atop the canine's head. “Poor Scruffle. What did he do to you?”

The shared look of sorrow between the pair of gentle hearts caused Rayla's own heart to hurt. “Tha' High Mage o' yers better hope Ah don' run inta him again any time soon, or he'll be the one needin' ta be stuffed.”

Inside herself, somehow she knew that this would be one human she would not second guess taking the life of. The contents of this hideout was plenty reason enough.

Callum gave Scruffle a small stroke over the nose, and then his eyes were searching the space around them. “So, where's the egg?”

The question jolted Ezran back to reality. “Oh, um...” he cleared his throat while quickly wiping moisture from his eyes. “Under here.”

He set Bait down, then hurried over to one of the blanket covered items. Carefully, he removed it. The room became filled with soft blue light. A gorgeous, azure egg, covered in white and pink patches like suspended crystals, sat upon a single stand.

Not believing her own eyes, Rayla gasped, “It... it can' be.”

The size, and appearance providing plenty of evidence that this was an arch dragon egg. A _storm_ arch dragon egg, at that. Something that was only born once every thousand years. An egg that was believed to have been destroyed on the eve of last Winter's Turn.

Callum had come to the same conclusion, “The egg... it wasn't destroyed.”

“This changes everythin'.” She thought about how angry Xadia had been when word spreed that the egg of the Dragon Prince was destroyed. There was a louder outcry than the death of the King, because the egg had been an innocent. It had never done anything to harm anyone. Many elves had agreed that killing the Prince was the humans' way of declaring war... again. And this time, they had done so while shaking the continent to its core.

But since the egg was alive... what did this mean?

“So, this is it? The egg of the Dragon Prince?” Callum turned to her for confirmation.

“I can't believe it,” because she truly could not. Her mission- the reason the smiling boy to her right was a target- was resting before her eyes. “If the egg lives...”

“Maybe it could stop the war,” there was no hiding the hope in Callum's voice. His eyes growing more alight with such a possibility. He wondered, could it be done? Could there finally be an end to the fighting between humans and Xadia?

Rayla was not sure about stopping a war, but it could definitely stop the assassination. She moved forward to take it, but Ezran had placed his hands on it first. Not wanting to appear a threat, she moved to one knee in front of the egg. It had put her eye level with both the egg, and the young human prince.

She could not help staring at the miracle in front of her. Somehow, the Dragon Prince lived.

“He's okay in there,” Ezran excitedly announced. “I can feel it.”

She had to smile back at him. This sweet, little boy did not deserve to die. Now... now she had a way to make sure he did not.

“But how? Why wasn't it destroyed?” The questions tumbled from Callum's mouth just as fast as they formed in his head.

Rayla rolled her eyes, “Ah think the better question is, wha' is yer mage doin' with it?”

“Well, considering where we're standing, I'm pretty sure he was planning to use it for dark magic,” Callum gestured at the space and it's creepy cargo. A heartbeat later, he firmly added, “We have to take it back to Xadia.”

“We?” Rayla shot him a look.

“Why not?” Ezran countered while lifting the egg into his arms.

“Maybe because a couple o' humans walkin' inta Xadia with the egg o' the Dragon Prince is bound to get y'u two killed,” she huffed back.

“Maybe not with the help of our new elf friend,” Callum was getting way too excited. “Think about it. The King's would-be assassin, and his two sons, returning the egg that his mage stole back to its mother where it belongs.”

Rayla stood. Her mind whirling with Callum's words. Even if she lost both her hands along the way, it would be a worthy price to redeem her parents wrong. Plus, the gesture itself. It would prove that humans could be good. That they were people too, and maybe... maybe Callum was right. Maybe it would be enough to stop the war.

“We could change things. We can make a difference,” she finally responded. “Listen. Ah need y'u ta give me the egg. Ah have ta get it ta the roof, right away.”

“What? Why?” Ezran pulled the egg closer to himself as he raised a questioning eyebrow.

That simple act of distrust swiftly reminded Rayla that, despite the amount of trust she had shown them, it was possible they did not trust her. Which, to be honest, stung a little, and her hand momentarily clenched to keep herself from needlessly shouting at him like a jerked knee. “Just trust me.”

Callum caught the momentary hurt that had crossed Rayla's face. He bit back his normal paranoia that wanted to argue 'we barely know you' and 'you could just attack us once you have it'. That was not a moonshadow's way. Not according to the encyclopedia. Instead, he heard the words for what they were. She was asking them to let her help the same way a friend offered to lend a shoulder when you injured your leg.

One of the suggested phrases he read earlier stuck out in his thoughts.

He reached out his hand, and set it on her shoulder, “Our trust is still growing.”

This boy was not going to cease to surprise her. She looked at his hand, and then to his eyes. Once again, he looked to be sincere. If he had known what the honour apology meant, then it stood to reason he knew full well what those words meant to her. He was offering to trust her as much as he could, but he was also letting her know that she had not yet done anything to prove herself trustworthy to them.

Well, she could argue she stopped herself from attacking them, but that was not a shinning example of why they could trust her.

The small bit of tension that had started in her shoulders suddenly lessened. She gave Callum a soft smile of gratitude. Then her attention turn back to the still watching Ezran. “Come with me, then,” her voice reassuring, and calm. “But y'u'll need ta stay out o' sight once we get there. The King... let's just say he's no' the only target tonight.”

A sickening feeling twisted Callum's insides. For a second of a blink, he remembered how close Rayla had been to striking him back in the hallway.

Ezran was not fairing any better. The level of hurt in his wide blue eyes was heartbreaking to see. She was fairly certain, if they did not trust her before, they sure did not now.

“Wait... It wasn't just to tie us up or knock us out. You were... you were trying to kill Callum?” the little Prince could hardly believe what he was saying.

Rayla cringed, “Er. It wasn' Callum Ah was after...”

“Me?!” he squeaked.

A protective anger flared up in Callum. His hand pulled from Rayla's shoulder as though burned. “What? Why were you after someone that's done nothing wrong?”

She glanced uncomfortably between the two boys. Rayla forced her voice to be steady as she explained, “Well. Humans killed the King o' the Dragons, and, _supposedly_ , killed his only heir.” She held her hands up as though they were scales. “Dragon King and Dragon Prince.” She lowered one hand. “Human King and Human Prince.” She lowered the other.

While Callum was still wrestling with what he was hearing, Ezran nodded thoughtfully as he stared at the egg, “I guess that makes sense. But now that we know the Dragon Prince is alive...” He glanced up at her with uncertainty in his eyes.

Rayla gave a true, comforting smile, and nodded. “Tha's why Ah have ta get the egg to the roof. Any minute now, others will be comin'. Others like me. Ah have ta show them the egg ta stop them.”

The fear for his brother's life was still tugging at his insides, but now Callum had a direction to help fix it. “Then we better not waste anymore time.”

“Come on. I'll show you to the roof,” Ezran scurried off with egg in hand back up the stairs. It was not a run, but there was still plenty of hurry in his feet. Rayla made a point of letting Callum go ahead of her when they followed. To her, she was giving him the ability to protect his brother from her. He, however, did not seem to recognize what she was doing. Oh well. She should not expect a human to know every elven gesture.

She made it to the top of the stairs when she heard an annoyed croak below. Looking down into the dark, Bait was glowing red as he stared up at her. She rolled her eyes, ran back down, and scooped the little creature up. Her athleticism helped her to easily catch up with the princes.

It was a few moments into their speed walk that anyone spoke. Ezran glanced back at his would-be assassin. “Um. I'm just wondering... if this hadn't been the Dragon Prince's egg, would you still be trying to kill me?”

“Eh, probably no',” Rayla playfully shrugged. The teasing tone in her voice completely covering how uncomfortable the question made her. Now that she had met him, there was no way she could bring herself to harm him. “Ah've got a thin' about not killin' nice kids with freckles. It just feels wrong for a moonshadow elf ta hurt somethin' tha' looks like the night sky.”

The joke did its job in cracking the lingering tension. Ezran's ever infectious cheeriness had returned, “I do look like a night sky, don't I?”

Preferring to keep his brother away from the topic of someone trying to kill him, Callum quickly added, “Way better than the time that nanny called you a human pudding with sprinkles.”

As he had predicted, his brother scrunched his nose, “Yeah. She was weird. And she always smelt like moth balls.”

Rayla pictured fuzzy, fat insect that would look like balls fluttering around with moth wings. “Are those a kind o' moth here in the human kingdoms?”

Ezran snickered, “No. They're these smelly balls you put in your closet to keep moths from eating your clothes.”

“You're only supposed to add one at a time because they can be bad for humans. Plus, too many makes your clothes smell funny,” Callum added. “But I'm pretty sure Nanny Olfa keeps more moth balls in her closets than actual clothes.”

“Or she uses moth balls for perfume,” Ezran laughed.

Callum pictured their old nanny dabbing moth balls on herself like a lady applying perfume. The image making him laugh too.

Rayla scrunched her nose at the imaginary smelly woman, “Okay, tha' does sound weird.”

“Not as weird as the one time Ez tried to make armour for snails,” Callum nudged the younger boy.

Ezran pouted, “I still say they need it.”

“Snails already have armour.”

“Then how are they always getting smooshed?”

Rayla listened to the boys' banter with good humour. It reminded her of her band mates while they had been travelling to the Katolis Capitol. If all went well, these boys would even get to know the assassin band on the way to returning the egg.

Oh, Tam would have a field day with these two. As youngest of his family, and youngest of the band until she joined, he tended to get showboat-y, and competitive when there was someone younger than him around. He would probably drag his sister, Verrago, into the nonsense. She could see four of them getting into sibling showdowns, and tossing back and forth quips and sarcasm. As long as she could steer the brother-sister duo away from some of their more colourful language, it would be an entertaining trip home.

Maybe even Lucca would get in on the fun. Though he _was_ prone to what the group called 'mini-Runaan syndrome'. Honestly, being second in command this mission really went to his head.

Speaking of Runaan, she was pretty sure the lot of them would send him and Seumas up a mountain. Granted, Seumas was a father of- soon to be- three, and Runaan did help raise her. So, their sanity might last a week before cracking.

She had to bite her lip to keep herself from giggling. She felt a nervous giddiness inside. A new sense of hope bubbling up inside her.

Little did she know that the chamber pot was about to hit the wall.

\--

Naturally it was Runaan that showed himself. Anyone else, Rayla might have felt far more confident that she could convince them to call off the mission. Alas, the others were likely stalking through the castle awaiting his order to strike. She was to convince him, or no one at all.

The way he was glaring down at her from atop the wall, she was not liking her chances.

“You defied me,” his ire painted his words into cold stone.

“Runaan,” she tried to keep her composure, and raised a hand to ask him to let her explain. “Y'u need ta call off the mission.”

He jumped down from his post. Utter disbelief became more annoyance, “You've lost your mind.”

“Please. Listen ta me,” Rayla tried more firmly. “Ah found somethin'. The egg o' the Dragon Prince!”

It seemed that whatever argument Runaan had prepared himself for, that definitely was not what he was expecting. “That's impossible.”

She took this as encouragement to keep going, “The egg wasn' destroyed, it was stolen. Their High Mage was goin' ta use it for dark magic, but the human princes found it. They helped me get it back, and now they need our help ta brin' it back ta the Dragon Queen.”

“And you believe them?” Runaan aggressively barked. “Humans are liars. You're a fool to trust them.”

“She's not a fool,” it had been instinctive to defend his new friend. When he stepped out of hiding, he realized his mistake a second too late.

_When a moonshadow elf's character is insulted, it is expected that they are to stand up to the aggressor themselves, first. Stepping in too quickly devalues the strength of the one being insulted. Further more, it places you as a challenger against the aggressor. In a show of strength, the aggressor will likely meet the challenge with a threat or full out attack depending on their relationship and the conversation context with the one who was insulted._

“How dare you,” Runaan drew his weapon faster than Callum could blink.

He had to say something to placate the deadly archer, and fast. “Let me prove to you I'm trustworthy.”

Meanwhile, Rayla froze in place. She was a little irked that he had felt the need to defend her. She had to remind herself, again, he was human. He did not know all of her people's dos and don'ts. Challenging Runaan, however, was a giant 'don't' for even the best warriors. Her eyes turned back to Runaan. Sure enough, he was already notching his bow.

“You let him lead us into a trap?” the older assassin snapped.

“No! It's no' a trap. He welcomed me as a friend,” she countered. Her voice and eyes begging for him to understand.

“Humans don't understand what it means to be friends like we do. You're just a tool to him,” Runaan raised his bow. The string was not fully drawn. A marksman would catch it, and realize, though prepared to draw and loose in less than a second, he could just as easily disengage. It was an aged old rule: never draw your arrow unless you intend to shoot it.

He had, of course, taught this to Rayla. His protege knew not to flinch at such a threat. She did, however, make a small side step, and her hands moved to her sides. Not to her blades, but still in a position that indicated to him she would fight, block, or even take the arrow herself if he dared to draw it.

Callum could not stop the shaking in his knees. His hands quivered as he carefully raised them to show he was unarmed. He had to dig deep to keep meeting the deadly elf's gaze. His throat suddenly felt uncomfortably dry, yet he somehow found his voice.

“A-a friend is a companion. Welcoming someone as your friend is recognizing them as being as good as your kin. It's an oath to lend your heart and spirit during triumph, and failure. To celebrate their successes, and support them in times of heartache. When they are near, you shield their back. When they are far, you uphold their honour. When they are wrong, you are the first to correct them. When they are right, you stand with them. Even in death.”

One uneasy step after another, he moved forward until he stood directly beside Rayla. With a few deep breaths to steady himself, he lowered his hands. He could not help clenching his fists as he raised his chin. Mustering up every ounce of courage he had in him, he boldly proclaimed, “I stand with Rayla.”

As his words rang clear, the clouds cleared for the entire full moon's glory to shine on them. Both elves had to admire the boy's tenacity. He was little more than a feather in the breeze the way he shook. Yet, there he stood, ready to take an arrow to prove Rayla right.

The display bolstered her own courage to face her mentor. “Y'u see? He does understand. No' all humans are wha' y'u think-”

“Stop,” Runaan firmly silenced her. “Use your sense. Just because he can quote _The Moon's Decree_ doesn't mean he understands it. He'll betray you the moment it suits his greed. In fact, while we stand here arguing, his brother is likely telling their guards everything you've trusted them with.”

“No, I'm not,” Ezran peaked out from behind the crate. It was mostly just his puffy hair, and one peeping eye. That single baby blue, however, was narrowed into a stink eye. “I've been sitting here watching over the egg this whole time.”

Silence fell over the small group. In another time and place, the way Runaan's eyebrows nearly launched off into his hairline, and his jaw dropped, would have been considered funny. Hilarious, even, were it not for his threatening stature, and still dangerously pointed bow.

Callum sighed and glanced over his shoulder, “You may as well come out, and show him, Ez.”

A few seconds of shuffling, and Prince Ezran emerged from his hide out. Bait resting on his shoulder, and the egg calmly glowing in the pale moonlight.

Runaan's cerulean blue iris almost seemed to shrink with how large his eyes became. At last, his bow lowered. He needed a second to catch his breath. The moment he did, the words, “It's beautiful” swept out.

Desperately, Rayla tried to reason with him one more time. “How can we take vengeance for somethin' tha' never happened? Y'u have ta call it off.”

Whatever temporary spell had come over Runaan upon seeing the egg vanished with her words. “Rayla, you know it doesn't work that way,” all the edge had left his voice. His head had lowered, and the hint of regret shone in his eyes. “We bound ourselves. There's only one way to release.”

He held out his arm with a flex of his bicep. From the princes' angle, it looked like he was doing a strange heart salute. Except, Callum could not remember anything about such a gesture meaning anything in what he read. Plus, the older elf had made a motion with his eyes. It was short lived, but it drew his attention to the silver-white ribbon with a crescent moon pendent around the elf's arm. It looked kind of tight. There was a matching one on his other arm, too. Two ribbons... Two targets...

Callum's eyes subconsciously turned to Rayla's arms. He did not see ribbons until she raised her fist up with the extra emotion behind her plea. Hers were around her wrists, but looked just as tight. The ribbons were a magic binding of some kind, he concluded. Then his mind began to wander.

He zoned in to the tail end of Rayla's words, “This is a miracle. A chance for peace.”

Runaan's face was hardening, again.

Callum jumped in before the adult could speak, “What happens when the bindings don't release?”

All eyes turned back to him. Rayla was evidently surprised by the question, while her fellow assassin just became more annoyed with the Prince's interruption.

Callum pressed on, “It's something really bad, right? That's why you're afraid.”

“I am not afraid-” Runaan dangerously growled.

“Then listen to her!” he shouted. His arm angrily shot up to motion to Rayla. “Is whatever those ribbons do worse than humans and Xadia killing each other for another thousand years?!”

Rayla's fist clenched at her sides. Mirroring Callum's bravado, she squared her shoulders. “Y'u know he's right. Mah hands are no' worth more than the millions o' lives bein' destroyed by war. Ah'm willin' ta pay tha' price for peace.”

Only the steady moonlight, and the cool spring breeze dared to cut through the tension. Runaan looked back and forth between the children. He zeroed in on his charge. His mask fell away to show he was pleading for her to reconsider.

“Rayla. It's not just your hands,” his voice wavered. “You'll be ghosted for abandoning your mission. Your home. Your people. The ones you love. You will loose everything, and you will never be allowed to return. If you should fail, you may even find yourself labelled a traitor of Xadia. Is that really worth two human lives to you?”

Rayla paused. She honestly had not considered everything she would be giving up. To never be welcomed back to Silvergrove. To never be able to redeem herself for her parents cowardice. To never see Runaan or Ethari ever again. To wander the rest of her life as a friendless outcast. Worse still, should everything go wrong, she would be hunted as some criminal to her people.

Was it worth it to her?

She already knew her answer. No, it was not worth it to _her_... but it would be worth it for _Xadia_. Even if no one ever sang her name, or if historians made her out to be as bad as The Midnight Star. The Primals would know the truth. _She_ would know what really happened this night, and in the journey to come.

Besides, she was not exactly going to be completely alone in the world...

“Rayla?” Callum was observing her. He was still trying to trust her to do what was right, but his baby brother was one of her targets. If she turned on them now, would he be able to stop her?

The girl in question met his worried gaze. Moisture stung her eyes, but she put on the best brave, and reassuring smile she could pull off. Her hand found his shoulder. The tight squeeze was as much for his support as her own. She then turned her head to look at Ezran. She offered him the same smile she had given Callum.

That little face looking back at her with gratitude forged her courage. She faced Runaan with a determined stance. She did not bother to hide the glistening tears in her eyes. “Ah won' fail.”

They stared each other down. A lifetime's worth of memories were shared between them without a single word spoken.

His best friends' baby being placed in his arms to introduce him to her. He had thought her so tiny, and fragile that he might break her by simply holding her.

The man that carried her on his back when she was beaten and bruised from fighting another kid at school. How he had proudly told her mother and father how she had single handed took out a group of bullies.

The toddler that loved to play copy-cat no matter what he was doing. It was when tiny arms and legs tried to copy his practice exercises that he realized she had a natural talent to become the skilled warrior she was now.

The pseudo-uncle that combed his fingers through her hair as she cried in his lap about how awful boys were. Being there when her parents could not for her first heartbreak.

The child that insisted on being independent that she would run off alone as often as she could. Until Tiadrin and Lain agreed to Runaan's idea to let her think she's alone, but still keeping an eye on her from a distance.

She and him covered in mud, sweat, and bruises being barred from entering the house by a fussing Ethari until they had agreed to rinse off in the river first.

It was all too much. With a heavy sigh, Runaan lowered his eyes, and turned his head away. “I cannot overlook that the humans struck down the King of the Dragons. Further more, an assassin does not choose between right and wrong. Only life and death.”

All at once, the kids' hopeful expressions fell with their hearts. If he had still been looking, he might have seen the frustrated tears freely trickling down Rayla's facial marks.

Then, Runaan looked up to meet her gaze. His eyes were sorrowful. A mix of regret, and reddening with held back moisture. His features, however, were shinning with pride. “Thank the Primals you have not yet completed your assassin's training.”

She stood there, breathless, waiting for him to continue.

He returned his arrow to its quiver, and settled his bow-swords over his shoulder. “You will have a head start of perhaps twenty minutes, at most. Long enough for me to speak with the others, and allow them the same choice. Remember what I've taught you. Do anything you can to make yourself difficult to track. If you have to prioritize, it's shelter, water, and then food. And above all else...”

He paused long enough to walk forward. He reached up to set his palm against her cheek. His thumb brushing away one of her tears. It struck like an arrow to the chest that this may well be the very last time he would be doing so. Chocking back the lump in his throat, he finished, “Remember that those of us who love you will be cheering for you. Even if we cannot be with you.”

Without either indicating their intention, both latched onto the other in a tight, instinctive hug. The hand that had been on Rayla's cheek moved to the back of her head. Each closed their eyes to remember this feeling. Neither dared to openly cry at that moment. Rayla did, however, give a slight hiccup that could have been a sob.

To keep his composure, Runaan eyed the pair of humans. The older one had been smart enough to take a step back to give them space. He still wanted to take the two of them down, and talk some sense into Rayla. He could only imagine the horrors that awaited her by trusting these two. Yet, he knew she would not be swayed.

“If either of you dare to betray her, you best pray a quick death finds you,” his voice as smooth, and icy as his eyes. “Because the one I will deal you will not be.”

Both Princes shrank back. Callum decided to not correct himself. Mostly because he had already used a month's quota of his courage over the last few minutes. Ezran momentarily eyed the crates. On his shoulder, Bait became a vibrant green.

Rayla pushed away from the hug, “Don' worry. If they try ta double cross me, Ah'll personally end them. No one will recognize wha's left.”

Runaan chuckled, “At least save a little for the rest of us to exact revenge on.”

Ezran shuffled a little closer to his brother, “Callum? Are you sure they're not going to hurt us?”

“Ah already told y'u Ah won' hurt y'u,” Rayla was quick to answer. She wiped away her tears. Then she gave a playful grin, “Yer brother, on the other hand, Ah might have ta smack around every once in a while. But only ta keep him from doin' somethin' dumb.”

“Oh come on. I haven't done anything dumb so far,” Callum pouted like a kicked sky hound.

Runaan cocked an eyebrow without knowing Rayla was mimicking his expression. “From what I have seen of you in the last fifteen minutes, I would beg to differ.”

“You did walk towards a guy with an arrow pointed at you,” Ezran mused. His face reading apologetic while he shrugged.

“Okay, yeah, that was kind of dumb,” he sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

“Brave, but stupid,” Rayla agreed.

Callum looked back and forth between her and his brother. “Are you two going to team up on me this whole trip?”

Ezran and Rayla exchanged a look. A tiny smile graced both their lips.

“Probably.”

“Maybe.”

Callum dramatically face-palmed. “What have I got myself into.”

Runaan watched the little exchange with a critical eye. He would have preferred more time to properly observe them before letting Rayla run off across the world with them. They did appear to be bringing out the best in her, though. Probably only until the novelty wore off, but that would be left to time's hands. Soon enough, Rayla would learn for herself what kind of terrible creatures humans were. Even ones that acted as friendly as these two were. Hopefully it would be early enough in the journey that she could catch up with him, and the others, on the way home, and he could make a cover story for her absence during the mission.

First, he would need to speak with the rest of their band.

“You should go. While you still have the moon's light to cover you,” he kept his voice neutral. His chest squeezed with each syllable that left his mouth.

There was hesitation when she met his gaze. He dared to hope she was reconsidering. Then her famous stubbornness, and courage roared to life. She would survive this trial. She would fight every day until her last. Perhaps, by the moon's grace, she might even succeed at her fool-hearted mission.

“Thank y'u, Runaan,” those violet eyes shimmering up at him. Innocent, as they always were. “Ah won' let y'u down.”

He did not say it out loud, but she already had. Admittedly, he had also never been more proud of her for the strength she showed. It was foolish how she was going about it; trusting in humans. If she should succeed, though, then this quest the moon had bestowed upon her would see to the return of the Dragon Prince. She might find her place among a new dragon guard, or be seen as a hero of Xadia.

But would it be worth it when she would have no home or family to return to?

As much as he could hope otherwise, once she left his sight, Rayla would not be back. She would be cast from Silvergrove the same as her mother and father. The only way he would know what ever came of her would be thanks to a metal flower sitting in a fountain. That peacefully floating enchantment would be a lie, of course.

From this night, onward, she was already dead.

He raised his hand to his forehead. His fingers were curled closed, but his thumb raised to touch the middle of his brow. Closing his eyes, he gently bowed his head. Finally, he lead a slow trail with his thumb down to the tip of his nose.

Ezran turned a questioning glance to his brother. Callum shrugged. He had managed finish the 'Communication' section of the encyclopedia when King Harrow had found him. He had even been half way through 'Diet'. Nothing he had read so far mention the thing Runaan had just done. There was no missing the way Rayla's soul was breaking in her gaze, though.

Without opening his eyes or raising his head, Runaan let his hand fall. “Goodbye, Rayla.”

Her mouth opened to speak, but then clamped shut. She waited, wondering if he was going to look at her again. Sadly, he did not. He likely was not going to until she left, either.

Rayla spun on her heel, squared her shoulders, and raised her head. Her walk was stiff; like one facing their maker. In truth, she was walking away from one of hers.

“Aren't you going to say goodbye back?” Ezran inquired as he cautiously moved to walk beside her.

She took a deep stuttering breath, “There's nothin' left ta say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... longest chapter yet. It was supposed to be two chapters, but I felt like the two parts flowed better together than as stand alones. Also, you have no idea how glad I am that this will be the last (planned) chapter with word for word quoting.  
> Small note about the assassin band: I'm aware that The Dragon Prince will be releasing a book that is basically season one with more details. I assume that means we may learn a little more about the other elves such as names and backstories. If that is the case, I will change FUTURE fics accordingly. In Encyclopedia of Elves, however, my head-canon reigns supreme. Don't worry, I will introduce more on each elf, and what my head-canon looks like, as part of the story. If you have any questions, though, feel free to ask. I will let you know if it'll be relevant later in the story, or provide the answer in comment reply (or notes if the same question is asked enough)


	6. The Roaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Sunday, but again, you guys are amazing.  
> Also, Since I work several chapters ahead than what I post, I've reach a rather critical point for shaping the rest of the plot going forward. Which means the chapters I am currently working on require some extra care and attention. Thus, to give them that, and still remain ahead as I like to do in case I need to tweak something, I won't be doing another early update. Thus, Chapter 7 won't be out until next Thursday (unless I feel I've made giant progress, then I'll do so Wednesday evening).  
> As always, thank you for reading. And please enjoy!

Callum did not know what to say to help Rayla feel better. His eyes fell to her wrists as they descended the stairs leading to the courtyard. Runaan had spelled it out perfectly clear for them exactly how much she would be sacrificing in the name of peace. It did not seem fair. The most he and Ez would need to give up is a few nights of not getting to sleep in their own beds. After the egg was returned, they would have a home to come back to, and their dad's waiting arms.

He suddenly stopped, “Wait. I have to talk to the King before we leave.”

Rayla's head snapped up as she and Ezran also stopped. She looked at him with mixed emotions. He thought she was about to protest, and he was preparing an explanation, but she sighed, “Okay.”

“Thank you,” his voice soft and covered with genuine gratitude.

She used her eyes and shrug-tilt of her head to indicate she acknowledged his thanks. She did not need to say out loud that she understood.

He then turned to Ezran, “Are there any secret ways to get around all the guards?”

Ezran hummed with his eyes up as though looking at the ceiling would help his memory. “There is one that will get us near dad's bedroom door. But it's really tricky because you're supposed to go down, not up.”

Rayla looked over the two boys. Neither of them looked like adept climbers. This was going to take forever. “Ah could wear tha' cloak, again,” she offered. “Then we can' just walk up the stairs.”

Callum shook his head, “The crown guard are only going to let us past if they can see who we are.”

“Can't you make yourself invisible?” Ezran innocently inquired.

“No' really. Ah mean, Ah can make mahself harder ta see with moonlight. But Ah'm bettin' yer king has a bunch o' torches lit,” she motioned her head towards one such lit torch near them.

“The secret passage it is, then,” Callum reaffirmed with a nod.

Rayla sighed, “Fine. Let's hope this doesn' take more than twenty minutes.”

She had a point. Still, the King needed to know about the egg. Plus he needed to know his sons were not kidnapped before he could rally an army against Xadia over the misunderstanding. That would be counter productive to their journey.

Harrow might even have an idea about how to get their new elf friend through Katolis without being lynch mobbed.

“Lead the way, Ez,” Callum encouraged his brother.

Without another word between them, the group was lead away from the stairs into a hallway. That hallway ran into another, unlit one. Since he only had the moonlight coming through the window to help him see, Ezran struggled to find the difference between the suits of armour lining the wall. He knew it was after the portrait of a past king in battle with a giant squid. Yet, before the statue of the weeping woman.

“It's behind one of these four,” he tossed to the others as he squinted at each. “The one with a dark blue cloak.”

“They all look dark blue,” Callum grumbled. He pulled at the cloak of the one nearest to him to better hold up in the moonlight. He supposed this one could kind of be considered a dark indigo. Or it was a trick of the eyes since the curtain behind it was red.

“It's this one,” Rayla pointed to the third one. Her voice indicating it was obvious.

Ezran hurried over to the one she pointed at. “Hold this.”

He unceremoniously shoved the egg into her hands. He missed the momentary surprise written on Rayla's face by his action. Instead, his attention turned to the armour's couter. Running his fingers on the metal, he found the place where three semi-diagonal lines decorated the elbow guard. The bottom line was the smallest, and the top curled into a loop.

“This is the one,” he cheered. His words gaining curious looks from Callum and Rayla. This time, however, they both knew to be quiet.

Ezran pulled back the curtain behind it to reveal a solid wall. At the armour's shoulder height on the wall, a single brick bore a strange symbol carved into it. It looked like an upside down 'V' with a curled flare on one side, but the point was not joined.

Rayla gasped, “It's an air key.”

“A what?” Callum could not look away from the mark. He felt drawn to it.

“It's sky magic,” she explained. “You use a wind breath spell to open it.”

“I usually just blow on them, and they work,” Ezran shrugged. He demonstrated by standing on his tip toes, taking a deep breath, and then blew on the carving. It flickered an unnatural glow, and he stepped back. In the next second, the glow stopped.

Ezran frowned, “Weird. That normally works.” He looked at Callum, who's mouth had practically hit the floor. “I don't think I'm reaching high enough. You blow on it.”

He shimmied out of the space behind the armour to allow his brother entry. His arms outstretched to Rayla in a silent request for the egg back. Knowing it would only build his trust in her, she relented, and returned the egg to him.

“Uh, okay,” Callum slid forward. The carving directly at his eye level. He curiously touched the stone as if to trace out the mark. His fingers tingled the same way they had with Claudia's prima-ball.

Wait...

From his pocket, Callum drew the paper, and the magical storm ball. He flipped open the page. Ice, lightning, fog... Wind! His insides bubbled with excitement as his eyes found what he was looking for.

 _Aspiro- Wind breath spell. Mostly useless, but used as base for several other spells,_ Lord Viren's scrawled words read.

He looked between the page, the ball, and the carving, “I think I might be able to do one better, but I don't know if it will work.”

Rayla looked out the window behind her to gauge the hour, “Ugh. Just do somethin'. We're runnin' out o' time.”

“Okay, okay,” Callum held up the ball that it nearly touched the brick. “ _Aspiro_!”

He could feel energy seeped like a cold wind from the sphere into his veins. It settled in his chest like a coiled snake, but for several heartbeats, the only change was that he was finding breathing a little more difficult. His mood deflated. Of course, like everything else, he would be bad at magic.

Rayla rolled her eyes, “Ye're suppose ta draw the rune before y'u say the spell.”

“Oh. You mean like with a piece of charcoal, or does it have to be with a magical item like a wand or a staff?” He knew Viren used a staff, but he had never seen Claudia need one.

“With yer finger,” she drawled with a raised eyebrow. “Haven' y'u seen other mages cast spells?”

He did not meet her gaze as he shuffled his feet, “Uh, well, I'm not actually a mage.”

Her features scrunched into the age old, 'what the fuck' face. “Then why are y'u tryin' ta do magic?”

He gave a half-hearted shrug, “I guess... I don't know. Princes are supposed to be good at things. Horseback riding. Sword fighting. Stuff like that. And I've always been kind of bad. At everything.”

“You're really good at art,” Ezran quickly pointed out.

“Yeah, but... I just want to be good at something useful, you know? And the first time I touched this Prima-ball, it felt right. And then this carving. It feels like it's pulling me to it. I just feel like maybe I'm supposed to do magic,” he looked sadly at the magical ball. “But I guess I'm just bad at that, too.”

Rayla's entire demeanour softened. She heaved a heavy sigh, “Don' count yerself out just yet. There's a difference between bein' bad at somethin', and no' knowin' how ta do it. Give it another go. This time, draw the rune with one hand, hold the primal _stone_ in the other, and then say the spell.” She slid herself to the other side of the armour. “Here. Ah'll hold yer paper up for y'u while y'u try.”

Callum was still doubtful. He did not want to give up, though. Rayla was right, after all. He had not done it poorly. He just had not cast the spell at all.

He handed her the page. Naturally, he knew he would not need to keep looking at it to remember the rune or the little arrows he assumed were meant to indicate how to draw it. Having Rayla hold it up for him as a quiet support did keep him from giving up, and just doing what Ezran had suggested. He made a point to look over the image one more time as she held it for him to see.

He could do this, he told himself.

Raising his free hand. There was a surge in his fingers as his index traced out the backwards '2' looking rune. It was like lightning in his bones to see the air in front of him glow as he drew. He felt breathless. That coiled serpent feeling inside his chest was getting tighter.

“ _Aspiro_.” It felt a bit like trying to blow out candles. Except the blast of air that came out was nothing humanly possible. He had made a gust of wind!

The air hit the key carving. Immediately, it glowed to life. The electric blue light suddenly dispersed out into the mortar. It followed the lines outward for several more bricks, and then vanished. There was a sound of stone moving against stone. The blocks moved backwards as though someone behind the wall was pulling them free. In rapid succession, they folded in behind one another until a narrow passage entry remained.

“You did it!” Ezran heartily praised. His words not fully sinking into Callum's brain.

Rayla smiled as she folded the paper, and held it out to him. “Congratulations. Ye're a mage.”

He instinctively accepted the page back, but his mind was still trying to catch up. “I did it?”

“You just did magic!” Ezran continued to enthusiastically cheer.

“I...I...” he looked between the two items in hand, and the magical door he had just opened. Then, his voice rang out clear, “I'm a mage!”

Rayla cringed. She slapped a hand over Callum's mouth, “Are y'u tryin' ta brin' the whole castle guard on us?”

To prove her point, the loud clanking of armour boots echoed down the hallway.

Callum cringed, “Sorry.”

Rayla huffed, and then shoved him forward. She then snatched Ezran by his sleeve, and ushered him in as well with a “Go. Go. Go.”

Callum shoved the primal stone and cheat sheet back into his pockets. They needed no further prompting as they booked it down the passage. It was a tight squeeze, forcing them to run in single line with one another. It was made all the more difficult by the moderate incline in the floor. The moment they stepped inside, a crystal to the right glowed the same dazzling blue the activated key had. This happened again and again. Seconds before they reached the next crystal, it would come to life.

The deeper they ran, their ears rung with the howling of wind. Loud enough they could hardly hear their own panting let alone if they were being pursued. There was no clear indication where the gust was coming from, either. The inside of the tunnel was significantly colder that it bordered on freezing. Moisture clung to the walls leaving the whole space smelling like fresh rain.

Suddenly, the narrow space widened into a small room. As the crystal started to glow with their presence, a dead end was revealed.

“Wait!” Ezran suddenly slowed.

“What?” Callum looked over his shoulder as he tried to stop before the dead end. The water slicked ground causing him to skid. Even if he had been paying attention, the crystals light was not yet bright enough to see the meter wide opening in the floor. Then one of his feet fell out from under him. He was falling forward, but his body slammed into the solid wall on the other side of the hole. The leg that had still been touching the floor uncomfortably bent at the knee as gravity dragged him down.

Thankfully, Rayla had opted to jump over Ezran to avoid running into him. It left her within reach to draw a blade, and dive for the falling boy. She hooked into the floor in the same moment that she latched onto his flailing arm. The momentum of his fall yanked her dangerously close to slipping over the edge as well. Barely heard over the current of wind was a loud _Pop._

Rayla screamed as agony shot from her right shoulder up her arm. She had to focus to make sure her hand gripped as tightly as possible to Callum's arm against the pain. She knew it was not going to be enough. Her dislocated shoulder was causing the tendons in her arm to quake.

“Hold onta me!” she ordered.

He did not hear her, though. His mind was more preoccupied with the fact he was now hanging from one of the castle's tower gutters. It was a solid ten foot drop between his legs, and the roof below him. That drop was not what scared him, though. He was hanging close to the edge of that roof. If he fell, he would not have enough time to keep himself from tumbling off and down the deadly drop onto the steps leading to the throne room.

“Hang on, Callum!” Ezran called out. He moved to tuck the egg and Bait into one of the corners of the room away from the opening. With his back turned, he did not see that someone else had entered into the space behind them.

“Ah said hold onta me!” Rayla ordered more sharply as her forearm trembled.

Callum looked up into her desperate, scrunched face. It finally sunk in what she was telling him. His free arm reached up to try to grab her arm. It caused him to swing in place, putting more pressure on Rayla's joints. She ground her teeth trying to not scream, again.

Then there were hands on her back. They gripped her by her holster vest, and dragged her back from the edge. In the next second, the owner of those hands dropped down beside her to grab Callum's reaching arm. She registered the individual was familiar, and then turned her attention back to lifting the prince back up. With their uninjured helper, he was hoisted up onto the ledge in no time.

“Fock. No' an hour inta this shite, 'n' ye nearly get yerself killed,” the saviour grumbled. His deep voice was so heavily accented and fast paced that he bordered on difficult to understand. “Ye know that dinnae bode well fur the rest o' this fockin' adventure, ken?”

Rayla visibly brightened, “Tam!”

From his place on the ground, Callum turned to look at the elf in question. The speaker was a fairly young, dark skinned elf that stood just a touch shorter than Rayla. His facial marks extended from under his eyes into a short points that nearly touched the marks that ran across his cheeks. His white locks were short and shaggy. He was not dressed in greens as Rayla was, but purples and greys instead. The elf's tiny silver ring around the tip of one of his horns caught the light from the crystals.

“Wow, thank you for helping us,” he grinned. His heart still racing that he felt a bit woozy.

“Think nothin' o' it,” Tam stood and brushed dust from his legs. The motion drawing attention to his assortment of throwing knives strapped to his gloves and hip.

“We thought we were being followed by soldiers,” Ezran added while regathering the egg.

“Ye were,” he responded without further comment.

The Princes shared a look. Neither wanting to ask about the fate of the guards.

Sensing their discomfort, Rayla piped up, “So, does this mean ye're comin' with us?”

“Aye,” he nodded his confirmation. “Afraid Ah'm the only yin, though. That's wye we best be gettin' the fock gaun oot o' here.”

“Hey, uh, Tam was it?” Callum pulled himself from the floor.

“Aye,” he cocked his eyebrow.

Man, were all elves supposed to have that intense of a stare, he wondered. He cleared his throat, “I know this is probably not the best time to bring this up, but Ez is only ten. So, do you mind cutting back on the bad words?”

Tam starred him down with an unimpressed look. When Callum gulped, but did not look away, he looked at Rayla, and jabbed his thumb in boy's direction, “This yin got a brass bawsack, dinnae he?”

She smirked, “Y'u should have seen him stand up to Runaan.”

“Diddy? 'N' he dinnae hae arrows in him?” Tam let out a low whistle, “Would gie mah left baw ta hae seen that!”

“Ah'll have ta tell y'u more later,” she suppressed a giggle. Trying to turn back to business, she looked down at Ezran. “So... Where do we go from here?”

Even in the low lighting, there was no mistaking the blush forming on the young boy's face. He had been watching Tam unsure if he should be amused or alarmed by the brash elf's attitude. Rayla's gentle voice did stir him back to the present.

“Uh, we have to go up there,” he pointed with his eyes to the top of the room.

From their angle below, they could see a tunnel above the wall across from the floor opening. A bold enough human could make the jump from above to the ledge they were standing on with ease. Jumping up and across the floor's opening, however, was a lot more problematic.

“Great,” Tam drawled. “We could toss the wee yin, but how we gaun ta get the brass set up?”

“Uh,” Ezran had to take a moment to process what Tam was saying. Once it clicked, he slid a step further away from the knife wielder. “There's another key. On the wall up there,” he quickly offered before Tam could follow through with throwing him.

Looking again into the dark space, the elves could just make out the carving at the top of the wall in the dim light. The pair of human eyes, however, only saw a mild indent that could be the carving, or it could be a chip in the stone.

“Is that it there?” Callum pointed.

“Looks like it,” Rayla gave him a playful smile. “Looks like y'u get ta use magic twice in one night.”

Tam frowned, “He's a mage?”

“Yeah, Rayla helped me learn my first spell like five minutes ago,” Callum beamed. He fished the primal stone from his pocket.

Meanwhile, Tam gave Rayla a hard sideways glance.

She met his challenge with her own, but the effect was lost when she could not cross her arms, “Calm down. It's just a wind breath spell.”

“Because teachin' a human any sort o' magic always comes oot braw,” he snipped back.

Callum ignored the banter. He was too ecstatic to be doing magic to let this stranger bring him down. His hand scribbled in the air with the familiar spark. “ _Aspiro_!”

Same as before, a mass gust expelled from his lungs. It struck the etched brick, and it started to glow. The scrapping of stone on stone as blocks extended out. They covered the floor opening, and created a set of stairs. He could not help looking back at the group with joy-filled pride. Though Tam was unimpressed, Ezran's excitement more than made up for it.

“There. Now we can get up safely,” Rayla could not help the mild jab. Then she pat Callum's shoulder for both support, and to indicate he should get moving. “Y'u should keep tha' handy. And no more fallin' down any holes.”

“Yeah. No. Definitely don't want to do that again,” he heartily agreed.

They hurried up the staircase. Only steps down the tunnel did they hear the stone behind them shift back into place. Much more careful of any other tripping hazards, Ezran was able to safely point out where each key was when needed. At one point, the key made a stone ladder climbing a solid forty feet up.

Rayla glanced down at her swollen, bruised shoulder. There was still tingling running down the length of her arm that the muscles felt limp and weak. “Uh, Tam? Do y'u remember how ta put a shoulder back inta place?”

“Aye,” he was apparently unimpressed with this new development. “Which wan 'n' how bad?”

She presented him her right shoulder. After gentle prodding, he carefully had her raise her arm with his hand under her elbow for support. When it was straight out from her shoulder like an extended wing, he grabbed her wrist. He swayed her arm side to side in a weird handshake like motion.

There was an audible bone _pop_. Rayla gave a hiss, but relaxed seconds later.

“I's probably gaun ta come oot again before tonight is o'er,” Tam warned. “But even if it dinnae, ye're gaun ta hae ta put it in a sling later.”

“Ah know. Thanks, Tam,” she flexed her hand. It still felt off, but it would suffice for the climb.

“Wow, are you a healer?” Ezran piped up as he watched Rayla test her limb.

“Naw,” Tam answered simply.

“But you do know field healing stuff, right? Do you could teach us stuff like that?” Callum beamed.

He glared, “Away with ye, focking wankstain.”

“Uh,” the princes looked at Rayla for help.

“Tha' would be a 'no',” she translated.

After that, Tam was the first to start climbing. At the back of the pack, Rayla was entrusted with carrying the egg up. Despite her wounded arm, she clambered up with one hand on the rungs, and the other cradling the egg. For the princes' the climb up was knee shaking. More so for Callum since he had never done this climb before. The resent near death fall did not help any, either. Thankfully, they did reach the top unscathed. Worn out, and fairly sure her joint was on the brink of popping loose again, Rayla happily handed the egg back to Ezran. Then it was back to being lead by the young prince through the maze, and its keys.

“This is a lot easier to get through with magic,” his comment stirring more pride in his brother.

“I wonder if some of the other secret tunnels have keys in them,” the older Prince pondered. He tried to imagine the possibilities hidden within the castle's walls.

“Got ta live through the night ta find oot,” Tam huffed.

“Don't worry. Once we talk to dad-” Ezran started.

Tam suddenly stopped, “Haud on! Whit's this aboot havin' a blether with their King?”

“We need to tell him about the egg,” Callum explained.

“Uh, fir wye?” he glowered.

“Because he thinks Lord Viren destroyed it,” the older Prince countered.

“So, ye want ta go chat with the man that gae the order ta destroy the egg, 'n' say it wisnae?” Tam's displeasure dripped into every syllable. “ 'N' ye well believe he's no' gaun ta turn 'round, 'n' hae it destroyed? Ye're aff yer nut!”

Callum opened his mouth to counter with a finger raised. As he thought it over, however, he deflated. “Yeah, I didn't think of that.”

“I don't think dad ever wanted the egg to be destroyed,” Ezran thoughtfully spoke while shifting the heavy thing. Even though he lugged Bait around all the time, this thing was giving his arms a work out. “He's been pretty upset about what happened during last Winter's Turn.”

“Aye, because feelin' guilty makes it better,” Tam continued to press.

“But he's our dad,” Callum pushed back. “I know he wants peace, too.”

He could not say the rest of what he wanted to, because Tam had cut him off, “Right. Was that before or after he found oot assassins were comin' fur him?”

Rayla growled and stepped in, “Tam, why are y'u helpin' us if ye're no' willin' ta trust them?”

“Because someone that's willin' 'n' able ta kill needs ta be apart o' takin' the Dragon Prince home,” he barked back.

Rayla glared as she blatantly blocked Ezran from Tam, “This isn' _just_ abou' gettin' the Dragon Prince back ta his mother. This is about makin' peace with humans, too.”

“That's fir wye Ah'm here ta step in when that wee dream o' yers bites ye in the arse,” Tam remained firm. His fists clenching and relaxing in a way Rayla knew meant he was itching to grab his knives.

“Everyone just stop fighting,” Callum shot out. His hands raised as if he could somehow block Rayla and Tam from physically fighting one another if it came to it. “We get it. You don't trust humans, and, so far, you're not giving us a reason to trust you.” He pointed at Tam to make it extra clear he meant only him, and not elves in general. “But you still chose to come help us. You even helped save my life. That must mean some part of you knows this is a chance for peace between all of our people. Both humans, and Xadia. But for that to happen, our dad- the _leader_ of a human kingdom- needs to know what Ez and I are doing. That way he doesn't send an army thinking we were kidnapped. _And_ he can help keep the peace on the human side. He can meet with the other Kings and Queens to argue our case while we're busy crossing the world to bring the egg of the Dragon Prince back to the Queen of the Dragons.”

All eyes remained on Tam after Callum had finished his mini-speech. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His nostrils flaring as his deep brown eyes studied the human in front of him. “Know whit, Ah dinnae know if ye're a brave focker, or a twally bastart.” With that piece said, the older elf released the tension in his stance. He rubbed the spot behind his ear as he looked away. “Fine. Let's go blether with yer da. But anybody makes a move toward the egg, or yin o' us,” he pointed between himself and Rayla, “Ah'll kill him.”

The younger assassin did not loose her protective stance. She met Callum's gaze, “It might be better if y'u go talk ta him without us.”

“Whit-” Tam's voice was loud with renewed anger, but it was Ezran that shouted over him.

“I'll stay here too.”

The other three looked down at the youngest of their crew. Seeing he had their focus, Ezran continued, “I'll keep the egg safe, Rayla can keep me safe, and you can talk to dad.”

Callum met Rayla's eyes, again. Without saying so out loud, he asked if she really would look after his brother. She gave a firm nod. Her violet eyes blazing with self-confidence, and her unspoken promise.

“That settles it, then. I'll go talk to the King,” Callum paused a moment before leaving. “Are there any other keys I should know about?”

Ezran shook his head, “I'm pretty sure there's only the door left.”

“Okay. I'll be back soon.” He hesitated to leave his brother alone with the elves. It was the most dangerous test of trust, but, if they were going to get through this together, he would need to believe in Rayla. With a breath for confidence, he ran as fast as he could down the remaining stretch of hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show of heart in the comments: who thinks Tam is (or is going to be) a lovable bastard? <3 <3  
> But yeah, I love him. I love his attitude. But I HATE having to go over his dialogue over and over to make sure it's consistent. I spent two days making accent and slang charts, folks. Two days of charts! Who says fanfiction doesn't take real work?  
> 


	7. Shadows in the Dark

The door that opened at the end of the tunnel was little more than that of a crawl space. It was blocked by a table with a sheet over it. It was only after he shimmied himself out from under the table that Callum realized the reason the door had not been larger was because a giant mirror hung where the rest of the door would have opened. He checked back and forth to gather his bearings.

It was a simple room with a single large window on one side. There were several large metal cauldrons beside a single fireplace. Beside the woodpile sat a hand pump. Confirming where he was, his eyes travelled to the ornate curtain that could have separated the room. It was drawn back to reveal the stone basin, and the little gutter leading to another gutter outside, that made up the king's personal bath.

He supported himself on the table to get up. There were rolled towels, bottled cologne, and a basket of soaps. Callum paused. He _had_ been running around a lot. He lifted his arm and smelt his pit. He immediately regretted that decision. Based on the parts he had read, he knew moonshadow elves had better hearing than humans. If they had a better sense of smell too...

Suddenly self-conscious of his odour, he grabbed a random bottle. He took a whiff, and was pleased to smell a earthy, spice scent. He uncorked the lid, and dab a few drops to his underarms. Just as he was about to put it back, he stopped. He realized he had no idea where they were going to be tomorrow, but he guessed it would not be somewhere that included a bath. They could probably get clean in a river or lake, but how often would that be? That thought made him stash the bottle in his pocket. For good measure, he also grabbed a bar of soap. Then he thought better of it, and grabbed three more for everyone else to have their own.

Realizing his pockets would be too full, he hurriedly tossed the soaps into his bag. He also made a mental note to let King Harrow know that he had taken the items so it would not feel like he was stealing. With that, he headed out the door.

The guards were, naturally, surprised to see him materialize out of the bathing room. He shoved past, and was only stopped by Soren.

“Whoa, slow down. How did you get up here?” the blonde's hands were raised.

“I need to speak with the King,” Callum demanded.

“He's kind of busy right now-”

Soren's words were cut short by Lord Viren exiting the king's chambers. The moment the mage laid his eyes on the Prince, he sneered, “You should not be here!”

Anger flared in Callum's belly. This man was the reason Xadia thought the egg had been destroyed. His little brother was the target of assassins because Lord Viren had wanted to use the Dragon Prince for who knows what kind of dark magic.

He clenched his fist, “Get out of my way!”

Everyone seemed taken back by the outburst. Lord Viren's momentary shock shifted to rage in under a second. “Why you disrespectful little-”

“Dad!” he shouted as loud as his lungs would allow.

Several seconds later, the door swung open. King Harrow's face a mix of stern, and worried. His hand wielding his sword in a way that he clearly had expected a threat to his son's life. “Callum? _What_ are you doing here?”

Callum raised his hands up to placate his father, “I need to talk to you. It's urgent.”

“What could be so urgent that you would risk your life like this? And where is your brother?” Harrow's voice boomed through the hall.

“Ez is safe, for now. Rayla is protecting him,” he swiftly reassured.

Lord Viren furrowed his brow at the name, “Who?”

“Rayla,” Callum barked back. “She's one of the moonshadow elves.”

“You left your brother with an elf?!” Fire blazed within King Harrow's eyes.

Callum shrank beneath the king's ire, “We can trust her. She saved my life, and warned us that Ez is a target, too.”

“Wait. Is this the girl I caught you-” Viren started.

Then, a haunting howl sounded behind them. With the call came a gust that dosed each of the torches. The guards readied their blades.

Soren grabbed Callum's shoulder, “There's here. Your Majesty, you need to go back inside.”

An arrow shot out from the dark. Soren threw Callum out of the way, and took the shot into his armour. The chainmail beneath his pauldron kept it from piercing his flesh. He yanked it free. His eyes fearful to be holding something that could have easily taken his life. Then, remembering his duty, he threw the arrow to the ground.

“Defend the King,” Soren ordered as he drew his sword.

“No, defend Prince Callum,” King Harrow called out.

The guards marched a few paces towards the stairwell. Then all Hell broke loose. A single, ghost-like figure easily slammed down two guards before charging towards a third. There was hardly enough time to blink before two more shadowed figures raced out. Final to arrive was Runaan. He fired off several more arrows, before splitting his bow into two blades.

The fevered sound of metal striking metal rung clear. King Harrow disappeared into the fray as determined as his soldiers. Panic rose in Callum's chest. He needed to protect his father, but he knew killing one of these elves would see to Tam and Rayla turning on him and Ezran. He needed a plan, but there was no time to think.

Grr... if only he could freeze time.

Then it clicked.

He pulled the spell sheet from his pocket. His eyes searching out the one he had seen earlier. Tracing it out in his head, he shoved the page back into his pocket. He rose to his feet the same time as he pulled the primal stone from his pocket. It kind of looked like the 'Aspiro' rune, but the little tail was larger, and in a swirl.

As he drew the rune, a chill ran over his skin. His fingers felt like he had stuck them in snow. As he finished the curly tail, the rune itself seemed to drip with ice.

“ _Aspiro Frigis_!”

He only had seconds to aim the powerful hail surging from his hand. It swept over the crowd capturing two human guards, Lord Viren, and one of the elves that was in the middle of a striking jump. While the humans were up to their necks in ice, only half of the elf's body was encased. His long double-bladed spear, however, was thankfully trapped.

A sharp burning shot through his palm. Callum jerked his hand away, which promptly ended the spell. It had only lasted seconds, but he felt too drained to continue standing properly. His whole body violently shivered. The tips of his fingers for both hands were bright red as though in the beginning stages of frost bite. The primal stone felt like it was frozen to his glove.

A battle cry near him snapped him back to attention. A female elf wielding scimitar-like blades was charging around the ice towards him. With a yelp, he shrunk into himself. His free hand covering his neck; though it felt like he was pressing ice to his skull. He was aware of the strands of his hair fall to his shoulder before the pain. Liquid warmth streaked down from his clipped ear.

In the next second, he was delivered a hard kick to his back. More accurately, to his back pack. The book in his bag sparing him the worst of the blow, but still plenty to launch him head first into his ice wall. If the stone had not been clutched to his chest, he would have dropped it.

He fearfully turned in place. The elf woman glowered down at him. A snarl on her lips. Then her attention snapped to the side. Her swords were raised up in time to clash with the sword of another shadowy figure. Though hard to be sure as the two became entrapped in a deadly dance, Callum recognized the physique of his saviour.

“Rayla? What are you doing?” he called out to her.

“Savin' y'u,” she snapped while dodging the other elf's strong slice. It was clear even to him that she was favouring her left arm. The right one was working, though. She proved as much when she struck out with a wicked slash of her own.

The older female stepped to parry, but she slipped on a slick spot of ice where Callum had been standing when he had cast the spell. She caught herself on one knee, but the damage was already done. What could be seen of her face shifted to that of shock. The swipe was too hard to stop. Especially with Rayla's freshly relocated shoulder disc.

Both elves could only watch in horror when her warning cut turned to a dangerous attack.

It cut across Verrago's chest guard. The elven armour took the worst of the damage. But then the blade continued down her abdomen. Though the clothing had protection magic on it, too, it was less so than the chest guard. The younger elf's sword ripped through the fabric like butter. The tender skin beneath easily being sliced open.

Verrago bite back her pain-filled shout. Her moon illusion vanished with the lose of concentration. One of her blades clattered to the ground in favour of holding her middle.

Rayla frozen in place. From her angle she could clearly see the deep teal of her band mate's clothing steadily getting darker.

“Verrago... Ah...” But what could she say? That she was sorry. That she did not mean it. It did not matter how true those words would be. She had severely injured one of her comrades.

Icy coloured eyes glared up at Rayla from where Verrago knelt. She had never in her life witness such hatred focused on her. “Traitor!”

Rayla swore she could hear the world shattering around her. It was actually the sound of Seumas battling while trying to cut away chunks of ice from Lucca's spear so he could defend and free himself. Inside her heart, however, the worst word imaginable torn her open.

Callum had managed to break out of his stupor to rise to his feet just as the attack had hit the other assassin. He had to duck to the side to avoid a wild swing from the tall elf with a braid around his one horn. Evidently, the elf had meant to strike the ice as he hardly acknowledged Callum's presence. It helped in the Prince's favour that more guards were filtering into the space from behind the ice wall, charging at the swift moving figure.

In the same second that the woman elf shouted at Rayla, Callum noticed a human guard pointing their crossbow at his friend's back. “Look out!”

But Rayla was not moving. She was stunned in place, and not paying attention to what was happening around her. She did not catch the minor glance to the side that Verrago made through her. It was not until the older assassin took up her fallen sword, and rolled to the side, that she even realized there was danger. She turned in place to see what she was up against. Then a mop of brown hair blocked her view.

Callum felt the impact, but there was not any pain. For one delirious second he thought that meant he was going to die. That his spirit leaving his body meant he could no longer feel pain. That Rayla's would be the last face he would see in this life. His inner artist seemed to go lightning speed. As if taking the time to observe every detail of this ghostly image in front of him would give him just a few more moments of life. Man, she was really pretty.

Then, he was yanked backwards by the straps on his shoulder. Oh, right... his backpack. He did not see who was pulling him back, but he did see it was Soren who was charging forward at Rayla.

She made avoiding the crown guard's swing look too easy. She tried to elbow the blonde in the face, but Soren proved just as difficult to hit. He struck back to drive the pommel into her ribs while she was distracted with trying to change her stance to allow a tighter swing with the sword in her other hand. Both parties hit their mark. Her attack deliberately landing hard against his elbow guard. The vibration through the metal hitting the reflex point in the joint.

Meanwhile, the guard that was pulling Callum from the elf's range of attack had to let go almost as fast. The trapped elf above had his weapon free, and had been trying to strike. If he had succeeded, the guard would have lost her hand. Instead, it clipped the side of the bag. He heard the clatter of items falling out of his pack, but he was more concerned with getting out of the spear's range. This had seen to him unintentionally shoving into the back of another human guard.

With their parry interrupted, the guard was easily dispatched with a clean slash across the neck. Callum saw the body fall, and the blood splatter against the nearly invisible attacker. His body locked up when he realized the lumbering form of the braid- horn elf was focused on him. Strangely, he did not use his swords. In seconds, one was put away so the elf could deliver a devastating punch to the boy's gut instead. It was like his lungs were being forced to exhale. He coughed as he desperately tried to breath through the pain. In the process, he fell to his knees and the primal stone fell from his hand.

Seumas redrew his stowed sword, “No' so tough without your magic, eh lad?”

Granted, even when he did have magic to help him, this kid was useless in a fight. He could not believe that this was the same boy that stood up to Runaan. He would not believe it if he had not seen so for himself from a roof top away. Of course, this one would be all talk; what did you expect from a human prince?

Then the father stepped in. In a normal fight, King Harrow was not to be underestimated. This situation was worse. There was no furry like a parent protecting their child. Seumas knew that with his own children. He fought back as if they were here needing him as the prince had needed his father. Despite his best efforts, he found himself getting pushed back through the open door to the king's chambers, and into the range of guards that had originally been watching the balcony.

Catching his breath at last, Callum knew he would have to trust that King Harrow was going to be okay. He did have his soldiers to help protect him, and he was only up against one elf at the moment. The Prince's attention snapped back and forth trying to account for the other elves.

Runaan was on the other end of the hall holding his own against six soldiers.

The one with a mostly shaved head was struggling to get himself free while also protecting himself from those thinking he would be an easy target. The long reach of his spear ending lives almost as fast as they appeared from the stairwell.

The injured female was the easiest to locate since her moon powers were not currently in use. She was doing all she could to keep from getting cornered in the tight space. Her face strained, and she was heavily panting. That's when something clicked in Callum's brain. The shape of her chin, nose, and brow matched Tam's.

Sure, Tam's face was longer, and this woman's was more rounded. But there was no doubt to him as he noted the details that she was somehow related to Tam. He thought of Ezran. His little brother had no idea what was happening to his family right now. If Callum died here, Ezran might feel guilty for letting him go try to talk to their dad instead of escaping. He imagined such a feeling would be far worse for Tam. He was a fighter that would be here protecting his sibling if he was not watching over Callum's. Something inside him felt like he owed it to Tam to try to help.

Even if this woman _had_ tried to kill him not even five minutes ago. His ear stung as a reminder.

Callum's eyes fell to the sword that had been dropped by the fallen soldier. His stomach flopped when he noticed the pool of blood it rested in. A feminine scream in the direction the elf woman was urging him onward. He struggled a moment to hold the heavy weapon. Especially with it's handle slicked with sticky crimson. He chocked down the bile rising in his throat. Then, heart pounding against his chest, he charged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience. You guys are amazing as always. All your beautiful comments last chapter made having to wait this long to update down right heartbreaking. Thankfully, I did manage some solid work in the meantime, so hopefully I can do another early update for you guys soon.  
> As always, I hope you enjoyed :)


	8. Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! That's right, a second update the very next day. I wanted to thank you guys for your patience this past week, and thank you for your continued comments and support. You guys are amazing :)

What was taking so long? Tam inwardly grumbled.

He had made a stupid comment about wondering if Runaan and the others were already in the tower. As he had expected, Rayla had been so sure that her new pet was in danger. After a threat of bodily harm if he hurt Prince Ezran- which he knew she would never have the heart to pull off- she ran after the older Prince. He had hoped she would have caught up with the boy, and convinced him it was better to leave now.

That had to have been an hour ago. So, here he sat with his arms lay over his bent knees. He occasionally rose his head just so he could tap the back of it against the tunnel wall, again.

“Isn't that going to give you a headache?”

He gave a sideways glance to his current company. The expressive child seated near him- but not directly beside him- was looking at him with mild concern. The _human_ child that he had been sent to kill- and was now charged with _babysitting_ \- was worried about _him_ getting a headache. The irony of it all was not lost to him. Oh, and he was being glared at by a grumpy glow toad. Moon above, what had he ever done to have it all come to _this_?

He glanced from the prince's face to the precious egg casually sitting in the kid's lap. The human had been awfully possessive over it. He had not even allowed Tam to hold it when it was obvious the egg was getting too heavy for the boy. They both knew Tam could have effortlessly taken it. Heck, he had the opportunity to kill the boy while he was at it, and then could leave with Dragon Prince in tow. But the boy's death was no longer his mission, so he left it alone. He did not need Rayla on his case about making the human whelp cry by taking the egg, either. Even if it was to keep one prince from dropping the other.

Thus, they sat. The night of the biggest, most important assassination of his life, and he was stuck in a dark tunnel playing nanny.

He noticed the boy had something new in hand, and decided to deflect, “Whit do ye hae there?”

The boy smiled and held out his treasure, “It's a jelly tart. Do you want one?”

Tam looked over the triangular pastry. He shrugged, and held out a hand, “How no'.”

Ezran happily handed him the sweet. Then he pulled another two from his bag. He fed one to Bait, and enjoyed the second himself. Watching him, one would think he did not have a care in the world.

Oh, the innocence of childhood, Tam mused. He turned the sticky treat over a few times before finally having a bite. He had expected it to be sweet. Human pastries were always sweet with the exception of pies; the dinner pies, not the fruit ones. This tart was no exception. Unlike most elves, Tam actually like sweet flavours. There was just something refreshing to the taste of tooth rotting sugar that delighted his palate in ways moonshadow cuisine never. The band, especially Verrago, always teased how he often had sticky fingers- in more than one way- while travelling in human lands.

What? It was not like he could go up to a store to buy his baked addiction. Humans always had an over-abundance of food, anyway, with their unwholesome portion sizes.

Ezran's friendly voice once again drew Tam from his thoughts, “You sure have a lot of daggers.”

He realized the boy was looking at his gloved had. More specifically, the single throwing knife strapped to the back of it. He swallowed his current bite of tart, “They're no' daggers. They're throwin' knives.”

“You _throw_ knives?” Ezran sounded scandalized by the thought.

Tam smirked at the boy's expression, “They're no' yer Gran's kitchen set, laddie. These are special made fur thowin'. Dinnae humans hae somethin' like these?”

He shook his head, “I don't think so.”

They were quiet for a moment while Tam ate the last bite of his tart. He wiped his hands together, scattering crumbs to the floor. All the while, he was considering his own knives. He could see from the corner of his eye that the young prince was still curious about them. With a heavy sigh- and some inner cussing- he drew one of his smaller knives from his side pouch. He could not help making a show of flipping it around in his fingers before finally grabbing the blade side.

“Go on, then,” Tam held out the knife's handle.

Ezran fidgeted in place, but his hand was hesitate to accept the knife. He watched the boy politely inspect the blade. The tension in his frame proving he was not fully into learning more about the metal work itself. In less than a minute, he was already holding the knife out to return it.

“Cool. Uh, thanks,” he kindly added.

So, weapons made the kid uncomfortable, Tam noted. He did not take the knife back. Instead, he patiently nodded to its point, “Other way.”

Ezran looked down at the knife. He twisted it to it's other side, but both sides were equally sharp.

Tam snorted, “Ye never gie someone a blade with the pointy bit oot. Turn it 'round so the hilt is facin' meh.”

“Oh.” Careful of the edges, he cautiously used two hands to do as instructed. It still was not quite right. He was holding the blade side the same as he had the handle. If Tam had needed to grab the knife in an emergency, Ezran's palm would definitely have been sliced.

Tam gently extracted the knife in a way that would not cut the boy, but would make him aware how easily he could be nicked. Once he had it, he flicked the knife back around. Then he held it out to the boy once more. This time lowering his hand so that the prince could see how he was holding the sharp side.

Catching on, Ezran took the knife back. He fiddled with it a bit until he mimicked the way Tam had held it. Still not perfect, but certainly an improvement. This kid learned fast.

“There noo, see? Ah can grab the knife frae ye withoot the risk o' bein' stabbed.” He tapped his palm on the butt of the blade to make his point. Since Ezran was holding it correctly, the motion did not cause him any damage. The pair shared a smile as Tam finally took his knife back for good.

“I can't really tell what you're saying, but I think I understand,” Ezran tilted his head thoughtfully. “Why do you talk so different?”

Tam rolled his eyes, “It's called an accent, lad. It's somethin' folks hae when they're frae different places.”

“I know what an accent is,” the kid deadpanned. “It's just, usually if someone has an accent, it's because where they are from has another language.” Then his eyes lite up, “Wait, is Common not your first language?”

“Naw.” It was an innocent enough question. He could have left it at that, but for some reason, he started saying more. “Mah family's frae a place called 'Westlands'. Guess what part o' the moonshadow homeland that's in.”

“Mmm, west?” Ezran playful answered.

“Aye,” Tam grinned. “It's where the moonshadow homeland o'erlaps with earthblood homeland. Earthblood's do hae another language. 'N' it blended with Moonshadow Common until ye got the way Ah talk. Folks back home call it a 'Westie' accent.”

“Oooh. That makes sense. So, what about Rayla? Is her accent regular Moonshadow Common?”

Tam snorted a laugh, “The Silvers would tell ye 'aye', but the Middies would argue 'naw'. Us Westies just stay the fock oot ta it.”

Ezran shimmied a little closer, “I guess Silvers and Middies are elves from Silverland and Mid-land?”

He did not say it, but Tam was impressed. “Ye're close fur both counts, laddie. Middies used to be Midland Shore folks. Noo ye only really hear it spoke by posh elves.”

“What's posh?”

“Snobs. Stuck up folks. Counsellors, professors, guild masters. If they think they're important, they probably talk like a Middie.”

“You mean like Runaan?” Ezran innocently inquired.

Tam let out a deep bellied laugh. Oh, how he wished this boy had said that in front of their band leader. He could just imagine the older elf's disgruntled face. “Aye, laddie. Exactly like Runaan.”

Ezran gave the elf time to calm. It helped he had another jelly tart to munch on. Once Tam's uproarious laughter had slowed, the young Prince was back to his questions. “What about Silvers? You said I was close on that one.”

“Aye, lad,” Tam had to take a couple breathes to focus. “Silver is the most common accent, but it original means folks from Silver County. Silvergrove, Silvershire, Silverrock... ye get where Ah'm gaun.”

“Aye!” Ezran enthusiastically answered.

He gave the boy a pointed look. “Dinnae do that again.”

“I'm sorry,” he shrunk back. “I just thought it was really cool the way you say 'yes' and wanted to try it. I won't do it, again.”

Great. Now Tam felt like a roaster. Well, he knew he tended to be one, but he rarely felt guilty for it. “Keep the hied, lad. Ye meant well. When ye're a Westie that lives in the Silver County, ye get used ta bein' made fun o' fur the way ye talk.”

Ezran's face softened, “That's sad. People shouldn't make fun of each other for the way they talk.”

“Cannae agree with ye more,” then he leaned over to get a look into the boys bag. “Got anymore o' those tarts?”

Ezran's eyes sparkled as he happily presented Tam with another. They each enjoyed the sweet treats. This was not so bad. Mostly because the jelly tarts, Tam would argue. Though, if he was forced to admit it, the Prince was well behaved as far as children go. A sweet thing, really... for a human.

After they both finished their tarts, Ezran had another question ready, “When did you learn how to pass a knife to someone?”

Tam subconsciously twirled his forgotten knife, “Ah'd hae been aboot five or six. Before we can haud our first weapon, we're taught how ta no' cut aff our fingers.”

“That's a good idea,” Ezran was thoughtful while his hand dove back into his bag. He pulled out another jelly tart, and held it out. Tam smiled his thanks, and accepted the treat. After biting into his own jelly tart, Ezran carefully moved the dragon egg from his lap into the bag. It was a perfect fit with the prince's clothing adding warmth and cushioning. Satisfied, he added, “So, does that mean elf children play with wood swords, too?”

“Naw. We just grab a bunch o' sticks, 'n' hae at each other,” he snickered to himself as he remembered the number of fights between him and Verrago growing up. It was a wonder neither of them ended up with broken bones. “Its a good way fur weans ta see whit kind o' weapon best suits 'em fur when they get aulder, instead o' makin' 'em learn somethin' they migh' no' be good at.”

“I know what you mean. I'm supposed to learn sword fighting, but I'm not very good at it,” he absent-mindedly pet his lazing glow toad.

Tam raised his eyebrow, “Ye're a prince. Whit do ye need ta learn sword fightin' fur when ye hae soldiers lookin' after ye?”

“Because one day I'm going to be king,” Ezran retaliated, matter-of-fact. “Dad says a king needs to be able to lead and protect his people through anything. Including a battle. Otherwise, he's just some guy with a shinny thing on his head.”

The last part did bring an amused grin to Tam's lips. He could not bring himself to laugh, though. The reminder of the human king brought him back to the present. He had not intended for it to slip out, but it did non the less. “Is that fir wye yer da was the yin ta kill Avizandum?”

The light atmosphere between them came crashing down. Tam could not bring himself to care how disheartened and uncomfortable Ezran now looked. It was for the better, anyway. This boy was a human. No matter how young and pure he seemed now, his true nature would eventually win out.

“Is...was that the King of the Dragons?” the prince's voice was regretful.

“Aye,” Tam plainly stated. His eyes were hard as he watched the murder's son cradle the King's heir like it would somehow undo his father's transgressions.

“It wasn't for the kingdom,” Ezran curled around the egg. “Dad did that because...because...”

“Fir wye?” Tam pressed when Ezran stopped.

The little prince's voice was barely a whisper, “Because the Dragon King killed my mom.”

Tam's face fell. He had known going into the mission that Katolis had a King, and two sons. He had assumed there had once been a Queen, but her fate had not been important to the assassination. Now, as the moon would have it, it turns out the missing Queen- this wee one's mother- had everything to do with this mission.

While the elf was quiet, Ezran kept talking, “I never got to meet her. I wasn't even a year old yet when she died. Dad and Callum tell me about her all the time, though. They say she was brave, and kind... and that I get my love of jelly tarts from her.” He gave Tam a half-there smile at that part, but then grew sorrowful, again. “Dad really loved her, a lot. I think he still does. Sometimes, when he doesn't think we notice, he looks at me and Callum with this sad sort of look in his eyes. Callum says it means he's thinking about Mom.”

Tam's heart went out to the kid. He had never met his own mother, either. Or his father, for that matter, but that was for a different reason. All he knew of them was through stories from Verrago and their paternal grandmother.

But his mother's death had been an accident. If the human Queen had been killed by Avizandum, that meant she had been trespassing. Humans only ventured into Xadia for selfish reasons, and would kill, steal, and corrupt to achieve them. He did not need to know what happened to her. As far as he was concerned, the woman brought it on herself.

“So, yer ma's death ate away at him until he decided ta get revenge,” he hotly concluded. “Whit aboot the Prince?” he nodded towards the egg. “Can guarantee he didnae do nothin' against anyone.”

Ezran's face scrunched up with anger, “That's why I said that I don't think Dad wanted the egg destroyed. He was mad at Thunder for killing Mom, but there was no reason to hurt the Dragon Prince.”

“Did ye stop 'n' think maybe it was ta start a war?” he huffed back.

“No way!” the prince quickly defended. “Dad doesn't want a war with anyone. What would be the point of fighting with Xadia?”

Tam rolled his eyes, “Oh, Ah dunno. Maybe so ye can take whitever ye want frae us fur yer dark magic.”

“But Dad doesn't do dark magic.”

“He did ta kill King Avizandum.”

Ezran clenched his fists, “That's different.”

“How? Sounds the same ta me,” Tam snipped back. “Face it, laddie. Yer da isnae all braw 'n' noble like ye think he is.”

Ezran did not answer back. Good. The sooner he realized the truth, the better.

So why did this whole conversation leave a sour sense of inside him? For the second time tonight, at that. His eyes fell to the half-eaten treat in his hand. Tam huffed, and set the now offensive gift on the floor. He then stood so he could pace. Each step intent on ignoring the pouting child.

After about five minutes, rapid foot falls could be heard echoing down the hall.

Tam heaved a breath of relief, “Aboot fockin' time.”


	9. Friend or Foe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give you guys a HUGE shout out. Seriously. This story has reached over 100 kudos, 9 books marks, and nearly 2000 hits since its release. I am blown away by your love and support. I felt that we had to celebrate. So here's the next chapter early!

_Clang!_

The guard had thought he had the female elf cornered. She was injured, exhausted, and disarmed with her back to the wall. More so, her comrades were all too preoccupied with their own fights to be of any help to her. His sword should have struck the killing blow with easy. Except another sword had been raised up to block him. The clash had knocked the weakly held blade to the ground, but it had served its job in protecting the elf.

The guard prepared to fight off whoever this new assailant was until he got a good look. “P-Prince Callum?”

Callum was struggling to lift the heavy sword back up. “Leave her alone,” he demanded.

“But... you're Highness...”

“Oi! Away with ye, fockin' ice cock!” Verrago's voice rang out.

Callum looked back to see she was glaring at him, “What? Seriously? I'm trying to save your life.”

“Ah didnae ask ye,” she snapped. The added aggression in her speech only caused her more pain. She could not hide the shot of agony that twisted her features.

“Have y-y-you lost y-y-your mind?!” Lord Viren snarled from where he was trapped in the ice. His face was pale and his lips had began to turn purple. “Y-y-you're protecting an elf th-that just tried t-to kill y-y-you!”

His shouting had gained the attention of several other guards nearby. One of which being Soren, and the two helping him fight Rayla. She took the opening to make her blades into hooks. Then, she trip the blonde with a leg sweep. While he was still falling, she propelled herself to jump against the wall, twirl in the air, and then, upon landing, race towards Callum.

The guard that Callum had blocked instinctively saw her charge as an attack. He prepared to defend, but she merely ducked low, sprung up, and pushed him aside with a kick to his chest. Finally, using the kick as a spring board, she flipped in the air, and landed perfectly with Callum directly behind her. Against her exhausted panting, her eyes dared anyone to try attacking him with her there. The look made more intimidating by the blood trickling down the side of her face from an open gash on her forehead.

The attacked guard, and one of his fellow soldiers, prepared to fight. Callum used a gentle shove so that he could manoeuvre to being the one standing in front. One hand raised against the soldiers. “Stop! Rayla is my friend. She's just trying to help.”

“Of course! The Prince has been infected with Moon Madness!” Soren shouted while scrambling to get up.

There was mixed reactions from the humans. Some seemed to grow visibly frightened, and others completely confused. The majority, however, shared sarcastic 'is he serious?' looks. If any of them had looked, they may have noticed that the three elves paying attention were utterly baffled.

“Wha' is he on about?” Rayla's voice was innocently perplexed.

Callum palmed his face, and groaned, “Soren, that's not a thing.”

“That's exactly what someone with Moon Madness would say,” the crown guard leader growled.

“No, s-s-son. I-it's really not-” Lord Viren started, but then there was a loud crack of ice.

With a well placed strike of his spear, Lucca was free at last. He leapt out of the ice prison a bit uneasy with how numb his legs had become. It did not dampen his deadliness, though. In one motion, he managed to slice down a guard, and engage another. With her fellow assassins distraction, Verrago nabbed one of her swords. The scrap of the metal on the floor gained Rayla's attention. As one elf made to cut down the guard that had attempted to end her, the other stepped in as a block.

“Oot o' mah way, traitor,” Verrago spat. She pressed in harder with her scimitar.

“Ah won'! Y'u know there's no point ta this!” Rayla shoved back. Her lower braced stance giving her more leverage over Verrago's down swung blade.

The guard that had been protected looked back and forth between the pair of elves in front of him. Another guard nearby saw Rayla's turned back as an opening. He went to strike, but the first guard stepped in the way.

“Wait. Not that one. I think she's on our side,” he turned a questioning look to Callum.

Hope filled the prince, “Right. She's a friend.”

Lord Viren intervened, “Oh yes-s. The fr-fr-friend y-you were f-f-found making out with earlier th-th-this evening.”

“Ah-ha! He does have Moon Madness!” Soren roared over the battle. “Guards, capture Prince Callum, and the elves. We need them alive to undo the spell.”

“O-kay! Time to go,” Callum dropped the sword. He booked it past as many people as he could in a single sprint.

“Finally!” Rayla happily exclaimed. She pushed herself back into a flip, and disengaged. The sudden release saw Verrago's sword just nicking the inside of her calf, but did not go through her boot. Then, she quickly used the ice wall to keep her out of harms way.

That was when it occurred to her that the high mage was entrapped. She slide to stand on some precariously placed ice spikes to look him dead in the eye. He tried to put on a brave face, but there was no hiding the amount of fear shinning in his eyes. It would be too easy to kill him and move on. Alas, she had somewhere to be, and death would be too easy for this beast, anyway.

Thus, she opted for a solid punch to his face, “Tha's for Scruffles.”

She heard the tell tale drawing of bowstrings. With more feats of elven acrobatics, she avoided the arrows shot at her. Three pegged into the ice. The fourth snapped on impact, much to the misfortune of the man in the ice. Lord Viren screamed as the vision in his left eye suddenly blackened.

Meanwhile, Callum was able to get through most of the preoccupied crowd. One guard tried to grab him, but as fortune would have it, he slide on melting ice right under the tall man.

Only to promptly crashed into a heavy pedestal. The bust on top wobbled off. Its stone forehead smashing down onto his knee. It hit the perfect spot on the reflex joint to make his leg jolt. Which, naturally, caused him greater pain. He shouted and grabbed onto the injured knee cap. He had to quickly blink back the pain as he felt the vibrations of feet coming near him. He saw an elven made weapon coming down for him. If this entire fight had taught him anything, it was to not freeze up. Thus, he tried to roll away as fast as he could.

Operative word being 'tried'. His pack's weight would not allow him to roll properly.

Thankfully, strong hands grabbed him by his shoulder and the hip of his pants. He was slung forward into a roll with Rayla's help. The two landed in a tangled heap with Callum on top. They did not even have time to be embarrassed by the position. Another powerful grip lifted him by both his coat collar and backpack.

“Hey! I can get up myself. You don't have to-” his words ended with a gasp. He definitely could not see it well, but he sure felt the cold steal against his neck. Soldiers that were about to assist held their attack. King Harrow stood at the front of them with a hand out to indicate they stay back. Cold, calculating hatred stared down the elf that dare hold a sword to his son's throat.

“Let him go. Your fight is with me,” King Harrow roared.

“Our battle will come in a moment,” Runaan rudely dismissed.

Rayla also gasped as she gathered herself and her weapons, “Runaan, stop! Let Callum go!”

“This is your last chance to come to your senses, Rayla,” Runaan's smooth voice commanded the room's attention. “Kill this boy, and your earlier actions will be forgive. Defy me, and I will be forced to kill the both of you.”

She wondered just what he playing at. The last time they spoke, he could not have been more clear in saying his goodbye to her. It hurt to realize, but she quickly figured out he was lying. Did he think he was aiding the Maiden by testing her resolve?

Rayla clenched her hands tightly around her blades, “Y'u know Ah'm no' turnin' back, now. They're mah friends, and we're goin' ta brin' peace between humans and Xadia.”

“It is a fool's dream,” he hissed each word. He felt the human was nervously fidgeting. He yanked the collar as a silent warning to stop.

What he failed to notice was that Callum had reached into his coat pocket. The Prince had meant to grab the primal stone, but remembered he dropped it. His hand did still close around something glass. Runaan's rough handling cause Callum's thumb to hit the cork, making the top come off.

“You're better than this,” Runaan continued to boom. “You have your entire future ahead of you. Are you truly going to squander it for _humans_?”

Rayla boldly propped up her posture. Her eyes narrowed, but focused on Runaan. Some of her silvery locks stuck to the side of her face thanks to the blood from her small wound. In that moment, determination made her voice calm, and clear, “Ah stand with Callum and Ezran.”

“Then you leave me-”

With no time to second guess himself, Callum pulled the bottle from his pocket. He splashed the contents over his shoulder directly into Runaan's surprised face. Instantly, the room filled with the aroma of the king's cologne.

The assassin yelled, and shook his head. He tried to wipe the liquid into the crook of his arm, but it did nothing to alleviate the burning. The distraction was plenty for those waiting to strike. Fastest of them all was Rayla. She used the hook of her blade to snag Runaan's weapon hand, and pull it back. The sword coming away from Callum's neck. The boy instantly ducked, and moved out of the ensuing fight.

Even with his eyes swollen red, Runaan was still plenty skilled as a fighter to battle back with his other senses. By then, King Harrow had joined the attack, followed by his guards.

Callum threw the mostly emptied bottle to the ground. His eyes searching where that other elf had hit him. The back and forth march of feet, and the fact the floor was now as glossy as the stone thanks to melting ice, he could not see it. “Rayla! I lost the stone!”

“Y'u wha'?!”

Though her tone had indicated she had heard him, he still repeated himself, “The primal stone. I dropped it earlier, and now I don't see it.”

“Ugh! Callum,” she did not need to say anything more than that for him to understand she was both scolding him, and calling him an idiot.

Moving out of Runaan's attack range, she spun with the intent of defending herself from humans. They, however, merely stepped around her to continue fighting her mentor. Not one to question the blessings she was given, Rayla joined Callum's side.

“Where did y'u drop it?” her eyes scanning the ground while also keeping watch for an attack.

“Near the bedroom door,” he pointed to the spot. “Where the big guy punched me.”

With far better night vision, Rayla spotted the storm ball through a tiny lightning flicker. “I'll get it. You head for the tunnel.”

He wanted to say that he could help, but he knew that adrenaline was the only thing keeping him going. He was battered and bruised, and in need of a week's worth of sleep. Thus, he nodded. The pair split half a second later. Callum pushed his aching knee to not give out on him. The short sprint to the King's private bath had become a marathon to his exhausted body. They had not even left the castle, yet! He inwardly groaned.

He grabbed the door, but did not open it, yet. He was searching the crowd for a glimpse of his moonshadow friend. Funny enough, her swift movements meant that he saw the primal stone in her hands before he actually saw her. As lightning struck inside the little ball, her fingers and palm were coming into view. It seemed that once her moon magic started to wain a little, the rest quickly followed. In under a minute, she was no longer see through as she effortlessly dipped and weaved. She even bounced off the bust's pedestal to launch herself over the battle between King Harrow and Runaan.

The closer she got to him, the more he worried someone might attack her while her back was turned. “Come on. Come on. Come on,” He frantically waved.

“Open the door!” Rayla shouted back just feet from him.

He obliged right on time for her to zip inside the room. He swiftly followed after, vaguely aware of a _thunk_ slightly behind him. It was not until he slammed the door shut, and the privacy bar locked in place, did he notice the elven arrow lodged in the wood at his height level. He paled at the sight of it. An inhuman squeak of air slipped out his lungs.

Fearing he might faint, Rayla jammed the primal stone into Callum's hands harder than she needed to. “Here. Y'u owe me one.”

He looked at the ball, then at her, “Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure I owe you like five by now.”

Despite her pain and exhaustion, she found herself lightly chuckling. Her amusement bringing out his own. Callum was pretty sure he now knew what it felt like to be insane. That was the only way to describe this delirious giddiness inside him from his near death escapes when only a slab of wood stood between him and danger.

As if to remind him of what lay just beyond, the room echoed with the loud _crack_ of splintering wood. Both teens jumped with the noise.

Rayla had to force herself to not unsheathe her blades again since she did not need them, yet. “Well, y'u can start payin' me back by openin' the passage!”

Callum fully agreed. He did not know where the key was hidden on this side. Thus he simply cast the spell in the direction of the table and mirror hoping it would be enough. It knocked aside the table's items, and made the mirror dangerously shake. The sound of stone scrapping against stone was music to his weary soul.

“Ladies first,” he jokingly bowed.

She scoffed, but there was still mirth on her face. She flipped back the skewed table cloth, but paused. He almost laughed when she starting shoving random bath and perfume bottles into the soap basket. Without any remorse, she snatched her haul, and disappeared beneath the table into the tunnel. Another _crack_ had him scurrying behind.

The tunnel door had already closed by the time Seumas managed to chop a large enough hole to see inside the room. He had to keep batting back human soldiers while he was at it. Thanks to their captain's orders earlier- that had not yet been countered by their king- the humans were no longer attacking with the intent to kill. It made warding them off easier. Especially since he bore no such restrictions.

He reached through the hole, and raised the lock bar. After another human life was ended, he was free to pull the door open. In the seconds he had to look over the room, he could tell the pair had disappeared.

“They're gone!” he bellowed while parrying a wild swing.

Runaan grit his teeth. His sides were openly bleeding. His head spinning from the ceaseless burning in his eyes, and the pain brought on by his left horn either being chipped, or completely removed. The human king was not fairing any better. Parts of his armour had been cut away by Runaan's superior swords. They might not be sun-forged weapons, but his husband still had a talent with metals and enchantments that humans could never hope to match. The king fought bravely, but were it not for the guards helping him, the elf was sure he could have ended this scuffle with easy.

As it stood, his band was outnumber, and heavily wounded. They had all come to the caslte expecting a quick death in the line of duty. Now, it appeared they would become captives forced to whittle away through the prisoners decree. All because he had made the choice to bring an untested trainee on the biggest mission of their lives. He would not stand for it.

“Fall back!” Runaan's order rang above the clatter.

“Don't let them escape!” King Harrow commanded just as loudly.

Lucca and Verrago were being pushed back into the king's bedroom. They gave one another a look. Lucca made a motion with his eyes, and Verrago nodded. Giving all they had left in them, the pair stepped into a deadly dance. Before anyone caught on to what they were doing, they had already moved themselves into position. Swifter than their injured bodies wanted them to go, they dashed out to the balcony. Then, they jumped.

Verrago used her single sword to stab into the stone, and slow her fall to the roof below. Lucca, on the other hand, used his spear to take the brunt of the fall. Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down on them. Some hit before either was truly prepared to dodge, but by the moon's mercy, none were fatal. With open moonlight against their skin, they gained a third wind. Enough for the two of them to practically vanish in thin air, as far as the humans could tell.

Seumas and Runaan, however, were having a harder go of escaping. It was two against no less than thirty. They may have been the most experienced fighters in the band, but they were only so good. The two elves were eventually disarmed. A hard kick to the head knocked Seumas into unconsciousness. It took three soldiers on his back to force Runaan face down onto the ground. His body went limp as a show of surrender. He allowed his aching eyes to close in search of relief. He tried to even his breathing so that he might hear properly through his racing blood. Of course, humans were loud, so it was a moot point.

“Your Majesty. Two of the elves have escaped,” a soldier reported.

Runaan could feel a breath of relief fill his chest.

“Search the castle,” the King ordered. “Find them before they find my sons. And if you come upon the Princes, bring them to the panic room. Let every guard know there is also a young female moonshadow with them. She is not to be harmed, but, if possible, apprehend her in case this is a ploy.”

Runaan snorted a disbelieving laugh while several soldiers left to fulfill the King's demands.

“What's so funny?” King Harrow seethed at him.

He dared to open his tender eyes so he could meet the man's, “Rayla's betrayal saved you, your sons', and even a few soldiers' lives, while nearly costing my entire band theirs. Yet, you humans and all your backstabbing ways have made you paranoid that her actions are a trick. The irony of it all is that you will be dealing with our traitor for us.”

“Until I know her motives, she could just as easily betray us,” the king countered.

It was a fair assumption. These people did not know Rayla like he did. Though his vision was blurry, he gave the human his best cocky look he could, “If you want to know her motive, maybe you should have some words with your dark mage.”

King Harrow's head whipped back as he remembered Lord Viren was trapped. The broken shaft of an arrow lodged in his left eye was still openly bleeding. His other eye was half-lidded, and growing too heavy to keep open. He, and the two frozen guards, were still shivering- their teeth audible chattering- but it was clearly getting weaker.

“Light the torches!” he barked to the remaining guards. “And the fireplace in my personal bathing quarters. We need as much hot water, and warm blankets as we can get. Get those three out of the ice, and warmed up!” Then he turned to the guards looking after the two captives. “Have these two locked up, and their wounds tended to. I do not want either of them to die before I have the chance to question them.”

The elves were escorted away; Soren personally taking charge of keeping Runaan captive. The hallway quickly filled with warm light. While the water was being heated, Harrow and a handful of swordsmen were chipping away at the ice as close to the frozen people as they dared. Several healers arrived just as the first bath cauldrons started to steam. One of them instructed everyone not to poor the water directly on the victims because the temperature shock could kill them. Instead, towels were dipped into the hot liquid, and applied to the captives.

“Your Majesty. Please allow me to see to your injuries,” the head doctor insisted.

King Harrow frowned, but he knew there was nothing more for him to do now. The adrenaline had warn off, and he was feeling every slash, cut, and bruise he had received. His muscles shaking from exertion. He sighed, and stepped aside to let his people continue working. The physician and her apprentice guided him to his bed, and helped him free of his armour. From the balcony doors, he could see the sky was a light grey. It would still be another hour before the sun came over the horizon, but it was a sign that this horrible night was ending.

“King Harrow, Sir.”

The king looked to the guard that had addressed him. His emotions were in too many places to pinpoint any single one, and so just became a collective numbness. One thought did rise above his inner turmoil. “Any news on my sons?”

“Not yet, Sire. But given Prince Callum's unexpected use of magic, we believe he and Prince Ezran may be using the castle's old mage tunnels. Madam Livre is searching for scrolls to help us locate them.”

_Callum_ had used magic? King Harrow replayed the snippets of the night's battle the best he could. He had lost track of Callum several times early on. Then the ice wall had happened. After first he had believed it was Lord Viren's doing, but then he saw the High Mage was one of those caught in the blast. As he considered the moment, he suddenly realized that it had been Callum's voice calling out the spell.

His son was a mage?! But how? Since when? Was it something in that elf book he had been reading? Maybe that magical ball the librarian had handed him earlier? Or was this a side effect of him befriending an elf? Had it even been Callum at all, or was it a magical disguise? It would explain the prince's strange actions leading up to, and during the attack. King Harrow rubbed his brow. There were far too many questions, and the person that could answer them was hidden away somewhere.

“Your Majesty,” the soldier respectfully continued. “We also found these laying in the hallway. Witnesses confirmed they were dropped from Prince Callum's bag when it was damaged by one of the attacking elves.”

For the first time, he noticed that the guard's hands were not empty. His eyes landing on a rolled up letter baring his seal. “Bring those here.”

The guard crossed the room and set the small collection on the mattress beside the king. At once, King Harrow picked up the letter. Breaking the seal, he looked it over. Indeed, it was his letter to Callum. He noted the other objects. Some charcoal pencils, a paint brush, a palate knife, a glove, a folded pair of socks, a bar of soap... all of them recognizable as things that did or could belong to Callum. All but one item, that it.

Setting the letter down, King Harrow picked up the palm sized glass bottle. Yellow-orange liquid sloshed around within it. It's flowery perfume tickled a sense of familiarity in the back of his thoughts, but he could not recall how. He uncorked the lid, and inhaled more deeply. It was there. Just at the end of his thoughts, but he simply could not grasp what he was remembering.

The matron doctor managed to remain stoic, and focused on the injuries before her. The apprentice, on the other hand, was lightly blushing.

Not missing the young healer's reaction, King Harrow held the bottle out to her, “Do you know what this is?”

She sputtered a bit, “Um, well... it's silphium elixir, your Majesty.”

A memory rushed into the King's thoughts. It was early morning. He was still a Prince then. A happily married Prince, at that. He recalled his beautiful wife, Sarai, wrapped in a bathing rob with a servant setting a tea tray on their night table. She thanked and dismissed the servant. Once it was just the two of them, again, Sarai opened a little box she kept inside the night table. From it, she pulled out a small vial containing the same liquid he currently held. She dabbed three drops into her tea while he moved to wrap her hands around her waist.

“We're married now. You don't have to take that,” his voice warm as he kissed her shoulder.

Sarai laughed as she leaned into him. Her cup in hand, “As much as I love the idea of us giving Callum a baby brother or sister, I would like to give my breasts a rest, first.”

“That is what a wet nurse is for,” but under her displeased look over her tea, he chuckled. “I'm only joking, my love. If and when you are ready for another child, we will make it happen.”

“And if I decide I don't?” she playfully quipped.

“Then it will be you, me, and Callum,” he leaned in to gently kiss her lips. The elixir's distinctly flora smell lingered on her breath. The scent that had been a nearly daily part of the first few months of their marriage.

King Harrow snapped back to the present. His heart in his chest as he looked at the bottle with renewed vision. His mind wondering where Callum could have got this. Why did he have it? Unless he had been carrying it for his new... friend. He gulped as his tired mind tried to put pieces together. There was still far to many gaps, and possibilities he did not want to consider. Then the elf leader's mocking final words jumped into the mess; what did Lord Viren have to do with this?

Just then, a high pitched scream echoed from outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, another cliffhanger. But, King Harrow has survived the night! Show me your Katolis crowns, folks! -| l-  
> I'm not going to lie, this chapter had been super important that it got re-wrote twice. Though Chapter 13 was worse (you'll see why when we get there). As always, I love to hear your feedback.


	10. Sour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys have any idea how hard it is to stay several chapters ahead when all I want to do is keep sharing with all you wonderful people? I had wanted to share this yesterday, but I forced myself to finish chapter 16, first.  
> So, here you go, lovelies! As always, you guys are amazing :)

“Aboot fockin' time!” Tam's exasperated shout greeted the pair. As they got closer, he scrunched his nose, “Phew. Which o' ye reeks like a Earthblood orgy?”

Rayla huffed a grumble, “Tam, Ah can put up with the vulgar language, but Ah'm drawin' the line at adult references in front o' Ezran.”

The boy in question was not paying any attention. His eyes were on the dried blood running down the side of his brother's neck. “You're hurt!”

It took Callum a moment to realize what his brother was looking at. The older boy moved to placate his brother with a hand on his shoulder, “It's okay, Ez. There was a fight. And Rayla and I were hurt. But we're okay.”

For the first time that night, Callum took stock of their injuries. Tiny cuts from slamming into the ice adorned his face. His left ear, and a little bit of the skin behind it, had been sliced. Thankfully, though still sore to touch, the bleeding had stopped. His knee was bashed. He was pretty sure his insides were bruised from the punch to his gut. His fingers still tingled as though they were thawing, but they were no longer red. Most of all, he felt like he could drop any second from pure fatigue.

Rayla appeared to be far better off. The parts he could see included a nick on one arm, and a more serious gash above her right eyebrow. He knew she had taken a hard hit to her ribs, but if it bothered her, she was not showing it. Plus there was the earlier dislodged shoulder that had to be bothering her. He wondered how many other wounds she was shrugging off.

“But...” Ezran trailed off as he took in the smaller cuts alone Callum's cheek and nose.

“It looks way worse than it is,” Rayla confidently reassured him. “Callum will be lucky if he even gets a scar ta boast abou' later.”

It was a lie, of course. That split in his ear was there to stay. Scalp cuts also had a tendency to easily scar, no matter the depth, but that would eventually be hidden by his hair.

“Well, there goes my shot at impressing Aunt Amaya,” the older Prince joked.

His wit did not seem to lessen Ezran's concern, “You should probably see a doctor.”

“I will as soon as we get somewhere safe. Right now, we need to leave. Get as far away from the castle as we can, and carry the egg back to Xadia,” Callum looked around at their rag tag group. He would have preferred the King's help, but he was busy, and would continue to be with the aftermath of that fight.

“Brightes' thin' Ah've heard come oot ta yer mouth, lad,” Tam clapped him on the back.

Rayla noticed Ezran was still unsure, “Don' worry, Ezran. Once we are safe enough ta rest, Ah can bandage yer brother up for y'u.”

“But we don't have any bandages.” It was not said to be a protest, but more a statement of facts. He was simply pointing out another reason for his worry.

“Well, ye're in luck because Tam and I both do,” she happily announced.

“Aye. In our _packs_ ,” Tam countered.

Rayla's mood deflated, “Oh. Right.”

Callum looked between the pair, “I take it there's no way to get to them?”

“Ah don' know where they're hidden,” Rayla admitted. In fact, the band had thought they had left her behind that afternoon. Her belongs would likely not even be packed up except for the stuff she had not unpacked.

“Ah do,” Tam grudgingly sighed. “The problem is that they're in the same place as the other's stuff. It'll be a fight on our hands ta try ta get ta 'em.”

“No' if we beat the others there,” Rayla hummed thoughtfully.

Tam huffed a laugh, “Ye know Ah would do it just fur the chance ta pull yin o'er on Runaan 'n' Verr. But we try that shite with these two with us, 'n' we're focked.” He added a tilt of his head in princes' direction.

“Then how about this,” Callum stepped in. He was growing frustrated with the back and forth when they should be hurrying to leave. “Once we get out of here, and find someplace safe to rest, we'll figure out what to do about your packs. Agreed?” Receiving three nods and a croak, his shoulders fell with relief. “Good. Ez, is there any tunnels that attach to this one that will get us outside the castle?”

Seeing his brother was determined to keep going, Ezran sighed his defeat. He considered the many tunnels and passages around the castle. “Well... maybe. There's this key that I've never been able to reach, and it's just kind of in the middle of a hall. There aren't any drops or openings nearby that you would need to open the key to get through. So, it might open another tunnel, but I don't know where it goes.”

Not thrilled with the idea of an unknown passage, Rayla asked what they were all thinking, “And the next closest tunnel from this one is where?”

“Under the training grounds' stairs. That one leads into the kitchens,” the young prince happily supplied.

“The fact it's called 'trainin' grounds', Ah assume its near yer barracks?” Tam wisely guessed.

Callum tried to lessen the answer with a positive spin, “I mean, it also doubles as a second court yard, so there's gardens, and stuff. But yeah. The barracks are right there.”

“Great. Let's no' go near where yer guards sleep,” Rayla dead-panned. Her stance stiff to show she did not approve of that option either. Then, she sighed, “Alright. The mystery tunnel it is, then. Turn around.” The last part was directed to Callum.

He turned slightly so his back was to her. It became clear that she intended to place the basket of stolen bathing goods into his bag. Thus he grabbed the bag's straps to keep it from wiggling too much.

Tam snorted, “Picked yerself up a friend, Ah see.”

Confused, Callum looked over his shoulder. He saw Rayla's hand go a little lower than the opening of his bag. A small tug later, and she was holding up a crossbow bolt. Callum gulped at the sight of it.

Rayla's eyes were soft when they met his, “Forgot ta thank y'u for this.”

Right... if he had not stepped in, that bolt would have been in _her_ instead. That detail only made him feel more jittery. He had to fight off images of the numerous dead bodies that had littered the hall. His creativity making it all too easy to picture her as one of them. “Oh, um, yeah. We gotta look out for one another, right?”

A kind smile added to the gratitude in her eyes. He had a feeling the look was saying so much more than he could hope to interpret. If he had to guess, it looked kind of like she was trying to show him her trust in him. Whatever it was, it caused Tam to curiously quirk his brow towards her.

“Right,” she softly answered completely ignoring her fellow elf. That simple agreement helped calm him a little. If only one good thing came out of this night, it was that he had officially made friends with a moonshadow elf. And what a friend she was shaping up to be.

He silently let her deposit the soaps into his bag. There had been a comment about a hole in the side, but his folded shirt in the bag was able to cover it until it could be properly patched. His thoughts replayed every moment since meeting Rayla. Her surprise at his elf knowledge. The way she was kind to Ezran. Even being honest with them despite not knowing if they were turn against her for it. Most of all, her courage. She had ran into the battle to protect him; even with enemies- human and elf alike- surrounding her. It made him smile. This girl was something else. Something other than her being an elf, that is. Or was it because she was an elf that she was something else? He guessed he was just going to have to get to know her more and find out.

Noticing she had finished, Callum looked at his brother with a wordless request to lead the way. It seemed that while his pack was being rearranged, Ezran had taken the time to lift his own onto his back.

Ezran hurried to pick up Bait, “Okay. We have to go all the way back to near the hole that Callum almost fell down.”

“Okay,” Mischief shimmered in her violet gaze. “Tam can hold Callum's hand when we get there. Ta make sure he doesn' get too close ta the edge.”

The older elf gave Callum a menacing glare while Ezran snickered.

The older prince gaped, “Why are you glaring at me? She's the one that suggested it.” He motioned to Rayla, who was holding back some giggles.

Tam's intense stare was not swayed in the least, “Ye grab mah hand, 'n' Ah'll push ye o'er the edge.”

Ezran glanced at Rayla's barely withheld amusement. He grinned, then moved closer to Tam. With his best bright eyed look, he playful asked, “Can I hold your hand?”

The knife thrower slightly reeled back from the young prince. His face scrunched in the same level disgust as someone who had stepped in horse dung. Ezran and Rayla genuinely started to laugh. Catching on, Tam smirked, “No. We dinnae hae ta worry aboot ye fallin' down a hole.”

“Ha-ha, you're all hilarious,” Callum pouted.

Rayla took mercy on him with a hand on his shoulder, “Don' worry. Once we rest, Ah'll tell y'u the time Tam mixed up blueberries with giggle berries.”

“Best rethink that, lass, or Ah might hae ta tell 'em the story o' the shade squirrel heist,” he wickedly grinned with a triumphant cross of his arms.

The elves became locked in a silent stalemate. It seemed Tam had the upper hand, though, because Rayla yielded first. Her jaw set, and her eyes declared she would get her revenge. “Come on. Let's go before the sun rises.”

The team headed off back the way they came. Ezran was notably quiet, but when prompted he simply answered that he was tired. Tam was not interested in saying much either, so that left Callum and Rayla to fill the silence.

“So, wha's 'Moon Madness'?”

Callum groaned as he inwardly cursed Soren's big mouth, “It's just something humans made up about moonshadow elves. There's different versions of how someone is supposed to be infected or enchanted or whatever. But it always ends with the human becoming a mindless slave to the elf until he or she becomes a moonshadow elf.”

“Y'u mean like a werewolf?” her voice dripping with disbelief. He noticed her fists had clenched. She was hiding it well, but thanks to his earlier reading, he could tell she was super annoyed; boarding on pissed, even.

Not sure how to pacify her, he tried to redirect her focus, “Uh, what's a werewolf?”

“An old elven folk tale. The short version is that the cursed elf turns inta a mindless, bloodthirsty monster. They don' recognize their loved ones, and would kill their own kin if given the chance.” She was staring him down; waiting for him to confirm the similarity.

He cringed, and guiltily shrank away, “Well...it, uh... okay, yeah. That does sound pretty close to moon madness.”

He watched as her stance became ridged. Her eyes narrowed at nothing in particular as they walk. She was refusing to look at him, now. With a glance in Tam's direction, the older elf looked just as pissed. Great. They were definitely insulted.

“Is tha' wha' humans think we are? Bloodthirsty monster,” Rayla seethed.

Callum started to fidget like a cornered mouse, “Er, there are stories...” Then more quickly spouted, “Terrible, awful stories. Y'know... to scare little kids, and stuff. Oh look! I have to activate a key.”

He suddenly ran the few feet to the first air key. His hands fumbled to hold the stone, and write the rune. The poor attempt made the rune snap like a tiny explosion. Cold air blasted into Callum's face.

Rayla did not give him the chance to try again. She walked over to the key, and blew on it. The resulting glow was not as strong as the spell, but it did still lower the stone bridge. She still ignored everyone else as she lead them across.

They continued in silence. The tension between them was leaving Callum more breathless than Seumas' punch had. By the time they reached the stone ladder, he could not take it anymore. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it.”

The last bit of edge left Rayla's shoulders, “No. Ah'm the one tha' brought it up. It just... it feels weird ta know humans think elves... tha' Ah'm some monster.”

“Disnae surprise meh, any,” Tam muttered under his breath.

“I don't think you are,” Callum spoke before the thought fully formed. When he realized what he had said, he was pleased to note he genuinely meant it.

“Me, neither,” Ezran piped in. Bait trilled in his arms, and glowed just a touch brighter.

“Thanks,” she provided them each a grateful look. Then she half-heartedly teased, “Though, Ah'm pretty sure tha's the moon madness talkin'.”

Tam snorted with a shake of his head, “Winnae be long noo before their horns start growin' in.”

Callum playfully felt the top of his head, “Is that what that bump is? I thought I just hit my head really hard.”

There was a round of light laughter, then a smiling Rayla motioned to the drop, “Go open the key, y'u.”

Callum could not stop himself from making a show of deeply bowing to her. He forced his voice to sound as though it was void of any personality, “Yes, Mistress Rayla.”

“And don' y'u forget it,” she laughed.

“Oi! Keep yer kinks ta yerselves. There's a wean present.” Tam was all too pleased to watch the teens squirm, and sputter.

Rayla covered her face in her hands, “Shu' up, Tam!”

\--

It should be noted there was a theory among dark mages regarding ingredients. The theory went that a spells success depended on how the ingredient was obtained. In the case of feathers, for example, a dark mage wanted them plucked from a living animal instead of a dead one. This was because the feather itself- like claws and toes- required blood to remain healthy. When plucked from a living bird, there was still life blood within it. If used within two weeks of being plucked, the magic would be as strong as freshly taken. A dead one still worked, but the longer the creature had been dead, the more the blood was considered 'soured'. The more soured the ingredient, the more one's spell would fail.

Sometimes that failure showed itself in different ways. Sometimes it would even look like the spell had succeeded.

Sometimes, even the best of dark mages could misjudge their ingredients.

Claudia was still fuming about the way that girl had talked to her. Ooo, she had no idea who she was messing with. And to act like she and Prince Callum had been doing... _that_ , in the closet. That peasant might be a social climbing slut, but Callum was not the type to lay himself with just any woman. She was fairly certain he had never even kissed a girl. He was just so cute, and innocent, and kind...

He was also a couple years younger than her. And a boy. She knew from growing up with a brother how one track minded boys could get. Her heart sunk; what if he had accepted a paramour? He was royalty. And nearly fifteen years old. This was about when princes were known to start experimenting.

No! Callum was different. He was not born a prince. Nor was he cocky like Soren could be. He would be the kind of boy that would wait for the right woman to share himself with.

But then... he and that stranger had been found in a closet together. He looked tousled, and the clasp of his shirt was undone. Something indecent had to have happened in there. Who could blame him? He was probably so scared and stressed with worrying about the king. That bitch probably manipulated his feelings into getting what she wanted.

Her mind filled in imaginary scenarios where this mystery whore used Callum's emotions against him. Promising to 'help him feel better'. Doing so in the high mage's closet was probably an extra trick. She probably thought she could use something magic to ensnare Callum into becoming hopelessly devoted to her. Maybe get him to one day marry her lifting her from her simple peasant life into a seat among the royal family.

Claudia huffed; commoners and their belief in love potions. Every mage knew that magic could not be used to force someone to think or feel a certain way. There were concoctions to encourage certain responses, but if the recipient fought it, it would not work. No, that slut would have needed to fall back on old fashioned manipulation. Which, flaunting her tits for Callum beneath that cloak, would not have been enough.

Or would it?

No! Nope. That girl had not even been well endowed. True, she had not been able to tell thanks to the girl's cloak. But from what she could tell, the stranger was young, skinny, and shorter than Claudia. Proportionately, she could not have been more than a B-cup, at most. She was going to blatantly ignore that breasts were rarely proportionate to one's figure.

Claudia looked down at her own chest; a proud set of Cs, thank you very much. She was aware that such a size was considered attractive. After all, she had caught Soren and Dad scaring off young men that had been eyeing her a little too closely. She hummed thoughtfully. Maybe the slut knew something she did not. Maybe Callum was secretly a breast guy. If that was the case, she definitely had one over on the whore.

She also had years of friendship to back up her claim. Claudia knew Callum just as well as she knew Soren. His likes, his dislikes. Favourite foods. Favourite activities. His life's history. His family.

Speaking of the royal family, there was also the fact the King was in danger. Claudia had the magic to help. Something that closet bitch did not have. Saving the King's life was no longer just about protecting her leader. No, this was about saving Callum's dad.

Mind made up, she gathered as many magical things as she could stuff into her satchel. She searched around for the primal stone while she was at it. The relic was still yet to be found. Damn. Dad was going to kill her for loosing it. That would have to wait until tomorrow, though. She had a King to protect.

Running across the training court yard, she could hear the clanging of metal on metal from above. She looked up in time to see two elves jump down from the King's personal balcony. They looked haggard, and were obviously retreating.

Oh no. She did not bother to consider stopping the two. Claudia forced her feet forward to get to the mage's tunnel. She hoped against hope that this was not a sign she was too late. Her mind raced faster than her with every possible healing spell she knew. Come on, faster! She urged herself. She forced her way past some guards that were heading outside to chase the elves. The hallway with the tunnel's entrance was eerily quiet.

She squeezed herself into the space behind the suit of armour. Her hand instinctively plunged into her bag, but then she cursed. Stupid stone. At least, air keys could be opened by non-magical wind breath. She blew at the carving more than she needed to. Especially since she was already breathless from running this far. It felt like an eternity for the door to open, but once it was, she was off again.

Only to trip over the remains of three soldiers. She gasped and moved away. Her shoes felt like they were sticking to the floor while leaving behind bloody footprints. Based of the expert slashes, and a broken throwing knife stuck in one, it was obvious an elf had murdered them.

“There's no synonym for cinnamon. There's no synonym for cinnamon,” she muttered. She kept repeating herself as she forced her legs forward. Her entire body shook, and she felt jumpy with every noise. As if the elf was someone waiting for her in the tight space.

It was a relief when the little room came into view. That was when she remembered she absolutely needed the stone to cross here. She stopped before the hole, and clenched her fists. She rummaged through her bag in search of an alternative. Her fingers encircled a feather. Pulling it from the rest, she looked it over. It was one of Pip's moulted feathers that she had been lucky enough to nab three days ago. Perfect!

Holding the feather by the vein, she calmed her breathing to properly cast her spell. “Thgilf em evig. Regnessem eht ekil seohs!”

The black feather glowed a poisonous green. The energy melted from her hand to the floor, and then attached itself to her ankles. A set of false wings sprouted on either side of each ankle. She smiled triumphantly. She gave an experimental little hop in place. The wings furiously flapped to keep her up. It made her feet splay as though she had stepped onto ice. Her arms flailed, but she did not fall over. Carefully, she made her first 'step' up, and over the hole. It was like walking on frozen stairs, but so long as she took it slow, she would manage.

It was when she fully hovered over the hole, close to the opposite wall, that her mistake became apparent. What Claudia had failed to realize was that, although Pip was still a living, breathing bird, in order to moult it, that feather had been cut off from a blood supply for some time. A moulted feather was a dead feather. As soured an ingredient as one could be. A mistake she was never going to learn from.

The little energy wings fizzled out. She tried to turn in place to grab the lower ledge. Her finger nails pulled and scrapped against the stone, but there was nothing for her to hold onto. The wail of her last scream would one day become an urban legend to the people of Katolis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duh!   
> This was not intentionally a cliffhanger (cringes at inappropriate pun). Claudia's part was supposed to be at the beginning of next chapter, but I felt like most of 10 was filler. Thus, I added it to the end of this to give it more substance.  
> I love hearing everyone's thoughts and theories.


	11. Water, water everywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! I haven't forgotten you all. The reason I did not respond to the last batch of comments was because 1) I would repeat myself and 2) I was trying to figure out a way to explain without giving away spoilers.  
> Just to be clear, I adore Claudia as a character. Her quirkiness just makes her so much fun. And the fact we see her decent into darker and darker choices is beautifully written, and makes her one of the strongest developed characters in the series. Which is saying a lot because The Dragon Prince has a lot of well developed characters.  
> Alas, I went into this knowing she would die when and how she did. I cannot yet say why (it will explain itself as the plot continues), but rest assured, it was not meant as a "shock factor" death. Or a useless reason to add 'Major character death' to my warnings.

“Whit the fock was that?!” Tam uncovered his ears.

The high pitched noise had reverberated against the space making everyone need to protect their hearing. It had been the kind of sound that would forever be burned into one's ears.

“It sounded like a scream,” Ezran looked sickened. Bait had become uneasy as his skin changed to puke green.

“Stay here. Ah'll go look,” Rayla instructed. She did not wait for anyone to respond before disappearing around the corner with her swords drawn.

“Wait. You might need the air key activated,” Callum made to follow. Ezran at his side.

Both boys were stopped by a hard yank to their shirt collars. They fell to their butts, and looked up into Tam's stern expression, “Stay.”

Then he drew a blade, and followed after. The pair pouted, and Bait looked extra grumpy.

“Tam's not very nice,” Ezran commented. Callum had to agree.

Meanwhile, the two elves stealthily moved through the hall until they reached the stair's edge. Rayla motioned for Tam to stay behind her while she inched closer to the ledge. She peeked over to check if anyone was standing below. There was no one, but the passage crystals were lite. She moved closer still in order to look down the hole. Despite craning her neck, she could not see past the roof below at this angle.

She made the easy jump down to the lower floor. Her boot slid on a small wet spot. Looking down, she found her foot was now on a smeared dark spot. Ignoring it, she leaned to peer over the hole, again.

The pre-dawn light allowed her to easily make out the gruesome scene below. A woman's body laid splayed over the stairs. Her one arm was bent completely the wrong way. Blood pooling around her like her dark hair, and trickling down the steps. A handful of people were already racing to assist. Some screaming a name. Even from way up here, though, it was obvious the girl was dead. Rayla tensed when she realized the individual was wearing a familiar black dress and leggings.

“Whit is it?” Tam whispered from the ledge above. Based on Rayla's rigid muscles, he prepared himself to spring into action.

“Someone fell,” she could not get herself to look away. Her stomach flopping the way the woman's head did when one soldier ran up to cradle her. “Ah'm pretty sure Ah met her earlier.”

“Friend o' the Princes?” his voice still a calm whisper.

“Maybe,” she uncomfortably shrugged.

“Best no' say anythin' ta 'em, then,” he set his knives away. “Dinnae need 'em frettin' o'er if it is or no'.”

With a stuttered breath, Rayla finally looked away. She considered the room. Then, she leapt up and across the hole. Her hooked blades latched to the edge, and she propelled herself into a flip that safely landed her beside Tam. She winced as she rolled her shoulder.

“Is it oot, again?” he motioned to her movement.

Rayla shook her head. She did not need to say anything as she returned her swords to their holster. The pair walked in silence back the short distance to the Princes.

Callum was the first to bombard them with questions, “What happened? Is someone hurt?”

“No,” Rayla tried to tell herself it was not a lie. 'Dead' was not 'hurt', after all.

“Then why did someone scream?” Ezran's wide eyes spoke for the fact he was afraid of the answer.

“Someone found the guards that was followin' ye earlier,” Tam supplied.

Rayla was both sickened and impressed by how easily he lied. Then again, thinking of the dark spot her foot had slid on, it too was technically not a lie.

Callum turned a new shade of green, “Oh. That. Uh...”

Enough was enough for Ezran. He turned in place, and threw up half-digested jelly tarts near the wall. Turns out, they did not taste near as good coming up as going down.

Tam was the only one not to flinch. Inside, he kind of felt bad for the kid. The boy was too gentle and innocent for his own good. The other two could feel their own stomachs churn further. Callum had to gulp back some bile as he tried not to think of the many bodies left behind that night. Rayla covered her own mouth to steady herself when Claudia's broken image tangled with Verrago's bleeding middle in her thoughts. Bait closed his eyes, but his body had turned purple.

“Feelin' better?” Tam moved a little closer, but did not reach out to the boy.

Ezran retched, but thankfully nothing came up. “No,” he weakly moaned.

Callum moved to rub his brother's back under his bag, “Let's get out of here, and get you some fresh air.”

“Speakin' o', where is the key for the mystery tunnel?” Rayla was glad for the distraction. Her eyes searching the space.

Ezran wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Then he raised a shaking hand to point to a spot on the ceiling. “Up there,” his voice pitifully meek.

It took some squinting to find the little carving above. That upside down V was nearly completely covered in moss. In no time, Callum had the primal stone ready, and the rune drawn.

“ _Aspiro!_ ”

Wind blew over the ceiling dislodging some of debris. The key filled out with its familiar blue light. The light shot out on either side, and zipped down the walls to disappear into the floor. The ground rumbled. The group was forced to scramble when several feet of the floor lowered into a ramp. Thankfully, they were all on the side that the ramp started on. The musty air of the passage was replaced with a fresh gust coming up from the new passage. It was faint, but the sound of rushing water tickled their ears.

“Sounds like it goes ta the river,” Tam glanced at Rayla. Though she had never admitted it, everyone in the band knew she had a giant fear of water.

“Then it must lead out of the castle,” Callum cheered, missing the look between the elves. He was more concerned with how awful Ezran looked. Just a little further now, and this night was over.

To spite Tam, Rayla bravely ventured down first. The light crystals already coming to life before she reached them. The team had to be mindful of their steps with how steep the ramp went. It only got worse when the new passage narrowed, and turned into a smooth, sloped spiral. Everyone had to brace their hands against the walls just to keep their balance. At the back of the pack, Tam had drawn some of his knives to use as makeshift hand holds.

It was of no surprised to anyone that Callum had been the one to loose his footing. His startled shout was the only warning that Ezran, Bait, and Rayla got before he barrelled into them. Knocked from their feet, and tangled together, they could only scream as they shot down the stone slide.

After the first terrifying seconds, Ezran started to laugh. It was easier for him to feel safe since he was secured between Callum and Rayla. It was a lot like sledding, only his brother was the sled. Round and round they went. The wind filling their ears. The loops became wider until finally turning into a straight dive down. The end came into sight; a ledge that was going to launch them into a dark pool of water.

Rayla gave a terrified scream. There was no way to stop them. She could not even attempt reaching for her blades without hurting either of the Princes. There was only one thing she could do. She twisted her body to cling to the boys. Her eyes slammed shut. She felt the moment the stone disappeared from beneath them. The boys each gave a sharp inhale which reminded her she would need to hold her breath. She quickly gasped in a much air as she could before...

_Splash!_

It took a little coaxing to unlatch Rayla's grip. She caught on that they would all need their arms to swim to the surface, and let go. There was a current, but it was not strong enough to sweep the swimmers in any particular direction. Three gasps rang out the moment they broke the surface.

She searched around them, and sighed with relief upon discovering a wide ledge. She swam to it. The algae made it a bit slick, but she was able to hoist herself up out of the water. She kept all four limbs against the stone to confirm to herself she was on land. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the humans had followed her lead.

Pushing the wet hair from her face, she moved to help them up. Ezran placed Bait on the ledge first. As he scrambled to try to pull himself up, Rayla grabbed under his arms, and easily pulled him up. Even though her arm did protest the entire time. Beside them, Callum had found a foot hold under the water that let him get himself up.

He flopped belly down while heavily panting. Throwing a fist in the air, he exclaimed, “We're alive!”

“Good. Because Ah swear Ah'm goin' ta kill y'u!” Rayla growled.

When he turned to look at her, he was relieved to find she was wringing out her hair, and not grabbing for her swords.

“Whoa... Where are we?” Ezran was looking around in awe.

It was a decent sized cave mostly filled with water. The ledge they now rested on being the only dry space available. The ceiling was lined with hundreds of the glowing blue crystals, casting the entire space in soft light. A single, short waterfall gushed down one side. Opposite of it was a gaping hole for the water to gentle flow back out to the racing river. Beyond the swell they could see the forest, and the sky brightening with the first rays of dawn.

Motion from where they had come out at caught their attention. Tam had allowed himself to slide down while staying upright. He was grinning as he leapt high into the air at the last possible second. He made a needless double flip before curling into a cannon ball, and splashed down into the water. Rayla huffed and rolled her eyes.

When Tam surfaced, he took a quick stock of his surrounds, and then joined them on the ledge. “That was fun. Any o' ye want ta gie it another go?”

Ezran brightened at the suggestion, Bait became purple, and Callum let his head fall back to the ground.

Rayla gave him a look, “We're no' sneakin' back inta the castle just ta ride the zippy slide thing, again.”

Tam crossed his arms. He glanced at Ezran, “Didnae realize Ah brought mah Ma with me.”

The younger prince snickered.

Callum suddenly scrambled up, “How's the egg?”

Ezran removed his pack while the others anxiously waited. He opened the top to reveal the perfectly intact shell. For a moment, he placed his hands on either side. “He's okay. He's just a little cold.” With that said, he removed the egg from the bag, and hugged it to his body. The egg gave off a little brighter of a glow, before returning to normal.

Tam and Rayla were once again looking over the space with more critical eyes.

“There's nothin' in reach ta build a fire,” she concluded first.

Tam nodded his agreement. He looked over their ledge, “No' enough space fur yin, neither.” He pointed to the opening in the cave wall. “Looks like the only way oot is a bit o' a swim.”

Rayla's face became a mix of discomfort and a pout, but she did not say anything on the matter. Callum considered her reaction. There was definitely something to it, but he was too tired to piece it together. Or maybe it was nothing. He did not exactly feel up to another swim after the night they all had.

“Can we have a nap here first?” he plead as he removed his heavy bag. He added to his point by falling back onto his back. The stone was cold, and not smooth beneath him, but he really could not care less at that moment. It was a flat place to sleep. His eyes already starting to close.

“It is safe, and secluded here,” Rayla agreed. She met Tam's gaze in preparation for him to object. They both knew they were still too close to the castle to rest. In fact, they were literally beneath said castle; not even beyond the mote that helped to protect it.

“Ye're right,” his voice far away with thought. “Ye need the rest. Dinnae do us any good ta let 'em drown because they're too knackered ta swim.”

Rayla did not miss that Tam was not including himself. “And wha' are y'u plannin' on doin'?”

“Ah'm gaun ta go nick our packs,” he confidently countered. As she prepared to protest, he added, “It's yer turn ta watch the pets. Ah huvnae done a whole lot all night, so Ah still got plenty in me before Ah'm pure done in.”

She was quiet as she considered the water, and then the two princes. Reluctantly, she nodded, “Alright. But don' do anythin' stupid.”

“Right, lass, 'n' which o' us befriended humans?” he playfully nudged her shoulder. “Ah'll be good. Ye get some sleep. Help the lads check o'er their packs if ye get bored. Ah'll be back before the evenin'.”

“Good luck,” Ezran smiled at him.

His brother's words reminded Callum there was a different way to say the same thing. He leaned up to meet Tam's eyes, “Journey in moonlight.”

Tam's eyebrows shot up. He turned a questioning look to Rayla. The fact she was not surprised only shocked him further.

She shrugged, and waved a hand at Callum, “He read some books abou' us.”

“Huh,” Tam clicked his tongue. His head tilted a little as he studied the human oddity in front of him. Then he started to rub behind his ear. “Right. Ah'll be aff. Keep the heid.” He pointedly said the last part to Rayla.

She gave a confirmation nod. Tam eyed Callum one more time, then he turned, and dove into the pool. They watched him tread along until he was a speck on the forest bank.

“Speakin' o' books,” Rayla broke the silence. “Is the one in yer bag important?”

“Uh, kind of. Why?” he curiously looked over to her.

Her response was a 'are you seriously asking me that?' expression. She nodded her head towards the water.

Callum tensed. He hurried to dump out the bag. A bottle of bubble bath shattered in his haste. Thankfully, that was the only thing to break. The book flopped to the stone ledge with a _thump_ that echoed in the cathedral like cave. The first thing he noticed was a small hole where the 'h' was in “Moonshadow”. Cringing, he opened the cover to see how deep the damage went. He was pleasantly surprised to discover only the first four pages were harmed. Even then, it was only a slight indent. The cover had taken the brunt of the arrow. He became even happier to learn the pages were dry.

His entire body relaxed, “Oh good. It has a water proof enchantment.”

This perked the elf's interest, “Human's put enchantments on their books?”

“Not all of them,” Ezran supplied with a yawn. “Only if they're old, or rare, or old and rare.”

“Or important. My art book has a water proof and an endless pages enchantment on it,” Callum held out said sketchbook to show it was also dry.

Rayla reached out to touch the paper. “Huh. Wha' abou' the paper with all yer spells on it?”

Even knowing the answer ahead of time, Callum was still miserable to pull a lumpy wad of wet paper from his pocket. He carefully unfolded it to see if it could be salvaged if laid out to dry. Sadly, it tore at the folds, and the ink had ran in several places. Rayla winced at the sight.

Ever the helpful spirit, Ezran offered, “Er, maybe you should write down what you can remember.”

It was a small piece of comfort. Callum rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, and started drawing the runes and corresponding spells that he could still make out or remember. Ezran moved as far back on the ledge as he could so his back was to the wall. It was not long before he and Bait could be heard snoring.

From time to time, Rayla would lean over, and corrected or explained a draconic word if she knew it. Mostly she busied herself with washing the blood from her couple of wounds, and organizing the things Callum had dumped out of his bag. It was while he was blinking away sleep for the third time that he noticed she was curiously flipping through the encyclopedia.

He suddenly felt a bit uneasy. Sure, she already knew he had read about moonshadow elves, but there was something different about her seeing the book for herself. Like it was some dirty secret when it was a perfectly educational piece of literature. One that, thus far, had been a great help.

Still, he felt like he needed to explain himself, “I haven't read through all of it. Just the communication section. And some of the diet section since that was right after.”

She turned her eyes up to him. It was a relief to him to see she did not look angry or upset at all. “Is tha' how y'u learned about the honour apology?”

He scratched the back of his head, “That book is actually the only reason I know anything about moonshadow elves. Other than the stuff I've learned since meeting you, that is.”

“Oh? And wha' have y'u learned since meetin' me?” Mischief shone as much in her tone as on her face.

“Uh...” Callum stopped himself from blurting out the first thing that came to mind. He wondered what he could say. What had he learned since he met her? He subtly looked her over for some clue where to start. “Well, I've learned that your clothing is actually armour even though it looks like cotton.”

Her ears twitched as a blush tinted her cheeks, “Er. Only mah chest plate is armour. The rest is fabric.”

His posture stiffened as he was brought back to the moment in the closet. That had been the only time he had touched her clothing. He cleared his throat, which doubled as a way to hide his own blush. “Oh. Really? But isn't the things on your arms a type of gauntlet?”

It was clearly a distraction, but Rayla was grateful for it, “Nope. They just keep mah arms warm.” She pulled at one to show it creased and stretched in the way fabric did.

“Huh,” he grew more fascinated. His sketchbook lay forgotten in his lap as he gave her his full attention. “So, only your front is protected? Isn't that dangerous?”

She gave a coy shrug, “It is, a li'le. But only if someone is fast enough ta catch me.”

His thoughts were momentarily taken back to the fight. Her movements had been exact; almost flawless. It was like she was a fluid finding every possible opening to flow into. She had been the one in combat, and _he_ came out with more injuries.

“You're amazing,” the compliment coming out on its own accord.

“Yeah, well, ye're no' so bad yerself.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she add, “ _Mage._ ”

Callum could not help the swell of pride that warmed his chest. A goofy grin played his lips. He was a mage. _He_ was a _mage!_ He... needed to finish writing down the spells before the ink bled too much to read. He glanced down at his drawing book, and then back to the encyclopedia in Rayla's hands.

“Hey, I got an idea. How about you read through the encyclopedia... if you want to, I mean. And you can tell me what parts are wrong.”

“Or y'u could ask me anythin' y'u want ta know.” Her face was glowing with good humour.

Callum blinked, and doubtfully asked, “You'd really answer _every_ question I have about moonshadow elves?”

She opened her mouth as if to gladly agree, but then faulted. She quietly considered what she would be agreeing to, then thought better of it. “Yeah, no. Yer right. Tha'll get annoyin' fast.” She looked down at the large tome. She had only been curiously leafing through it. She had not intended to sit down and read the whole thing. Granted, it was a long journey to Xadia. If she got bored while on watch duty, she could always read a few pages. “Alright. Ah suppose Ah am curious what some human wrote about us.”

“Yes,” he pumped a fist. “Thanks, Rayla. You're the best.”

“Ah know,” she cheekily countered.

It was clear the conversation was done for now when Callum set back to work. With nothing more to do, she opened to their first section. After several moments of reading, her brow furrowed. “Okay, this is already wrong. Weapons shouldn' be under 'accessories'. They're weapons!”

\--

It was already mid-morning by the time Tam had made it back to the band's campsite. He carefully approached with his hood raised. A thick tree provided him shadow coverage, and a bush provided extra security. A pair of knives already balanced in each hand. Only Rayla's tent was still standing. The rest were packed away, and the bags were tucked inside a fallen log nearby. There was no sound asides from the dawn's chorus.

Yet, he knew he was not here alone.

His eyes searched the tree tops. There was nothing to be found, so he examined the ground level. It was only a lifetime of training that allowed him to duck out of the way of a single sword. With a forward lunge, he rolled, and then spun in place to meet his attacker.

“Verrago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be mildly evil with how often I leave you folks cliffhanging. But I swear, I do adore you guys so much <3  
> Anyway, thanks for reading. I'll see you guys in the next chapter :)


	12. The Blindfold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 3000 hits! Almost 141 kudos! Plus, 80 subscribers!  
> You guys are amazing <3   
> To celebrate this milestone, we're getting another early update.  
> As always, please enjoy :D

King Harrow was weary. He had yet to sleep, though he doubted he could if he actually tried. The librarian had succeeded in locating documents on where the old Mage Tunnel could be found. He had known they existed, but only in the same way he knew unicorns existed. Both were merely a legend in a book he had never laid eyes on himself.

Without magic, there was no way for him or his guards to enter the tunnels. When he had learned there was an escape shoot leading out to the river, he had sent search parties to check. Sadly, the entrance- or rather, exit- from the shoot could not be located. Local fishermen had been kind enough to lend their boats, but the entire base below the castle was solid, unyielding rock. Instead, they had moved to combing through the forest. Thus far, the only thing reported back was a single set of footprints coming out of the river. The people that had found them were not trackers, however. They could not tell him if the tracks belonged to one of his boys... or if they belonged to a human, at all.

What if the elf had killed his sons, left their bodies to rot in that damned tunnel, and then used the shoot to escape? He had been quick to squash that worry down. As much as he loathed to admit it, it was unfair to assume the worst from someone that had proven her intentions were to protect- not harm- his sons. He should be boasting her praises, and considering what he could do to reward her courage. Instead, he had ordered his people to arrest her. He was not going to go back on that order because she was still an enemy until proven otherwise. Still...

As if to mock him, his mind kept flashing back to his dream when Lady Justice had visited him. He could almost feel the fabric of her blindfold in his hands. Not for the first time he wondered, was he merely judging the girl because she was an elf? Would he be reacting differently if she was simply a human; no matter her background or place of birth? Why was he unable to get past the fact that she was born of Xadia instead of Del Bar or Evenere? Had her actions not spoken for themselves?

Claudia's unexpected death did not help matters. King Harrow stared at the blood soaked steps leading to his throne room. That same numbness caused by conflicting emotions since the dawn first rose still weighed heavily in his heart. He knew he mourned the young woman that he had watched grow up along side his sons. It was a tragedy for one so young to pass; especially given how she died.

His eyes gazing up. The opening above looked like any other storm drain. It had not been hard to figure out where she had fallen from once he had been presented with the tunnels' blueprints. Claudia had been inside that same tunnel that the Princes and the elf had hidden away in. He wanted to believe that it was just a coincidence of circumstances. She had trip, or slipped, or something, and it had nothing to do with his boys. But there was no denying that the apprentice mage and the elf would have fought one another. Both likely even thought they were protecting the Princes from the other.

But then, his sons would have stepped in. Callum had tried to do just that with the elf's...

No, if he was going to treat her fairly, he needed to acknowledge she had a name. Callum had called out to her while she was fighting her own leader at the King's side. Speaking of, the assassin leader had said it twice.

Then why could he not remember what her name was?

Because he did not care enough to bother remembering it, his inner conscious pointed out.

King Harrow sighed to himself as he rubbed his tired eyes. He wished that Sarai were here; she was always far more compassionate than him.

A horn sounded behind him. Seconds later, he could make out the heavy galloping of horses charging across the bridge. He looked over in time to see General Amaya and her battalion racing through the gate. Her eyes were already on him as she slowed her horse. He descended the stairs while she and her interpreter dismounted.

“General Amaya,” he started his greeting. “It's good to see you.”

Her eyes narrowed in on him. Her hands flying with her speech. King Harrow's basic knowledge of KSL was sadly, not enough to keep up with her. Thankfully, Commander Gren could. “What happened?! All your messenger could tell me was that the boys never left to the Banther Lodge, and now they are missing.”

Keeping his voice sounding regal proved to be a chore, but he managed. “I will explain all that I can inside. Though, to be honest, I'm still trying to piece it all together myself. But first, I was advised you have a tracker with incredible climbing skills in your ranks.”

Without missing a beat, Amaya pointed at her battalion. Gren's voice loudly bellowed, “Corvus!”

Some of the guards moved aside to let a tall, young man come forward. He was not wearing the heavy armour of the standing battalion. Instead, it was various light leathers with the occasional metal pieces to protect vulnerable areas. Meeting Corvus' deep brown eyes, King Harrow could tell that, despite being no older than twenty, this man had seen his share of battles and death.

“My King,” he set his fist over his heart, and respectfully bowed.

“I know you have been travelling since yesterday, but I have a mission for you that is of the utmost priority,” King Harrow set his arms behind his back.

Without looking up from his bow, Corvus answered, “You need not worry about me, your Majesty. I am ready for any task you require.”

The King nodded, but it was just to give himself a few seconds to consider his next words carefully. “Last night, Prince Callum had, thankfully, escaped an attack from the moonshadow elves using a secret mage tunnel. We believe he, and Prince Ezran, are still hiding within, but the entrances require magic.”

“Then why hasn't Lord Viren opened them?” Amaya questioned while Corvus finally straightened from his bow.

“Lord Viren was gravely injured last night,” King Harrow patiently explained. “He is currently resting with the help of some heavy medications. The doctor has advised that, if he survives, he won't wake until much later this evening.”

“And his daughter?” she continued to press.

“She's dead,” the words felt like poison on his tongue. Thus far, people had been advising him of Claudia's fate. This was the first time he was revealing the information to someone else. He forced himself to ignore the sobering looks before him, and continue on. “It is actually where she died that has revealed a possible opening into the passage that does not require magic.” He turned and motioned for the trio to follow him back up the stairs.

Without a word, they climbed the steps. Amaya and Corvus were able to remain outwardly stoic upon seeing the blood trail. Gren, however, openly stared at it with sorrowful eyes. They made it to the top, and King Harrow pointed to the opening.

“As you can see, it is in a difficult and dangerous place to reach. We don't know what the passage itself is like on the inside, but the blueprints do mention a few areas that you either need Sky magic, or impressive climbing abilities to get through.” He met the young tracker's eyes with a serious look. “Do you believe you can safely get in?”

He was glad to see the young man was taking the time to consider the opening's placement before responding. “I will need to see those blueprints, and then I'll have get a closer look to see if it's possible to get in.”

“Of course. Anything you need you are welcome to,” King Harrow pause a moment. “There are a couple more things you need to know.”

Corvus did not say a word. He merely stood at attention to let the King know he was listening.

“If you do get into the passage, and if the Princes are still inside, they are... being protected. By a moonshadow elf.”

Amaya looked ready to rip something to pieces. Thankfully, Gren's voice- though trying to mimic her firmness- was not as loud as they were all sure she wanted him to be. “One of those monsters is holding the boys hostage in their own home?!”

“Actually, this elf is surprisingly not our enemy.” Nope, that did not feel any less weird to say.

At least Amaya looked as dumbfounded as he felt. “Explain.”

“At some point, the boys somehow befriended a moonshadow elf. I don't know how long they have known one another. But she did hit Viren because of something to do with the sky hound pup the boys had tried to adopt a couple of months ago.” He had not heard what she said himself, but a few of his guards did report hearing her say 'that's for Scruffle'. Some of them had recognized the name from the hidden, healed bite marks beneath their armour. “It's possible she could have been apart of a scouting party, and had met the boys sometime during the winter.”

Amaya was signing again, “That long? Are you sure this isn't some trick to gain the boy's trust, and make them easier targets?”

He had been expecting this question. “I was thinking that at first, but she was seen attacking, and severely wounding one of her own to protect Callum. At one point, the lead assassin had given her an ultimatum to kill Callum in exchange for her own life.” With an appreciative little smile pulling his lips, King Harrow softly added, “She told him off. And then she helped get Callum to safety.”

The general was eyeing him as if to see if this was some kind of a lie. Beside her, Commander Gren had become a human fly trap.

“An... elf?” Corvus spoke as though someone had just told him the punchline of a joke, and he did not understand it.

The King held out his hands in a half-shrug as if showing they were empty was the same as showing he was telling the truth. “Yes. I did not get a good look at her because she was using her moonshadow magic. From what I could tell, she's a young female. She's taller than Callum, but even including her horns, I would say she is shorter than General Amaya.”

Amaya signed, forcing Gren out of his stupor, “For a moonshadow elf, she's either short, or a teenager.”

“The way she talks would indicate a teenager,” he confirmed. Then more pointedly at Corvus, added, “Do not underestimate her because of her age. Last night, she proved to be just as fast, and as skilled as the others. I will, however, advise that the reports I have received, thus far, all indicate she does not fight with the intent to kill. I don't know if this is because the boys asked her not to, or if she has an ulterior motive. It does indicate that you may be able avoid an altercation with her if you do not come across as a threat. To her _or_ the boys.”

“I see,” Corvus still seemed at a loss for words. “And if she does indicate me as a threat, how would you like me to handle her?”

“I would prefer if you could try to negotiate, first. See if she will relinquish the Princes, and come out without a fuss. Should she attack, defend yourself, but avoid killing her. Unless she gives you no other choice, or threatens either of my sons, she is to be taken captive,” he firmly instructed. He secretly hoped the elf would come quietly. The castle had seen enough bloodshed, and death over the last several hours.

“I understand,” Corvus was back to business once more. “Do you know her name or anything about her I might be able to use to build rapport?”

“No, but I currently have two elves as prisoners.” The King met Amaya's gaze before continuing, “I have waited to conduct their interrogate, because I had figured you would want to be there for it.”

She smirked while motioning her response, “You are correct.”

Looking back to Corvus, he finished, “I will have my staff provide you the tunnel blue prints while General Amaya and I are interrogating the prisoners. We will be sure to pass along any information on the young female that they provide us.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Corvus bowed, again.

“Your Majesty, you did mention there were a other things Corvus needed to know,” Gren was speaking for himself, but he did sign his words while he spoke.

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot.” He could not tell if he was distracted, or if it was the sleep deprivation. “The elf is not the only one you will need to keep an eye on. As it turns out, Prince Callum is a mage.”

“What?” Gren's surprised shout was just as much for himself as Amaya.

“How?” she also motioned. The King did recognize that sign. Which was a good thing, because Gren was too flabbergasted to translate.

“Yesterday afternoon, while we were in the library, Madam Livre gave him one of Lord Viren's magical artifacts. She said that Claudia had misplaced it, and asked Prince Callum if he could give it back to her the next time he saw her.” He sighed to himself as he replayed the memory. “He had had this look when he held it. I had thought it was just Callum being Callum. You know how he is when something fascinates him.”

Amaya shared a fond smile with Harrow. She could easily picture her nephew's wide-eyed wonder.

“I now believe that artifact has given him mage abilities,” the King continued on. “Which is why you should exercise caution with him. He will be just as protective of the elf as she is him.”

A huff of air passed Amaya's lips indicating a laugh. “You make it sound like she's his girlfriend.” When Harrow gave no indication of correcting her, all the humour vanished from her face. “Wait. You think they are a couple?”

Harrow wet his dry lips, “I haven't had the chance to talk to Lord Viren about it, but, he did claim Callum was making out with the girl in a closet yesterday. I assume she was in a disguise that he did not recognize her as an elf.”

“It could have been a ruse,” she fired off. “They could have just been hiding and needed a cover when he found them.”

He wanted to accept that answer. The same idea had spun in his head several times all morning whenever the topic of Callum and the elf's relationship popped up. The elf leader had said Lord Viren would know why the female had betrayed the other elves. But how would the leader know that?

Because Lord Viren had been heard loud and clear telling everyone in earshot what he had seen.

And because she had betrayed her own.

King Harrow wanted to squash down the voice that kept reevaluating Callum's actions yesterday. Did he really believe there could be peace with elves because of some book? Or was it because he had intimately gotten to know one in secret? There were only so few excuses why his son so easily trusted her to protect Ezran from her own people. But there was just one little thing he could not explain away...

“Callum's backpack was torn during the fight. One of the things to fall out was a vial of silphium elixir,” he kept his voice low to avoid eavesdroppers from hearing.

Amaya's hands dropped to her sides. She slowly moved herself to lean against the banister. Her eyes focused downward, and darting side to side as though reading invisible words written on the ground. Corvus and Gren shared worried glances with one another. Neither could ever remember a time seeing her like this. King Harrow allowed his sister-in-law a few moments to process her thoughts.

She surprised all of them by jumping up into a ready for action stance. Her lips were set in a firm line as she quickly signed. “We need to speak to the prisoners, immediately. Corvus, get to work on finding a way into that tunnel. My nephew had better hope this is all just a misunderstanding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. Auntie isn't very happy.  
> Just a quick note, guys. As much as I love sharing multiple chapters a week with you wonder folks, I am starting to get writer's fatigue from trying to write 2,500- 5000 words a day just to keep up. For those that are not writer's let's just say professionals advise a pace of 500-2000 words a day (depending on writer's skill). In order to keep giving you guys quality stuff, I'm going to have to slow down. From time to time, I may add an extra update through the weeks to celebrate milestones, or if I've had an amazing few days of writing. But, sadly, from here on out, expect updates to be once a week (Every Thursday).  
> Thank you for understanding, and I will see you guys this Thursday :)


	13. A Trial of Lies

_Last Night..._

Runaan stood, waiting for the sound of Rayla and the humans' footsteps to fade. Finally, he opened his eyes. “Did all of you hear that?”

Four figures sprang out from various hiding spot. Each using their moon giving gift to be near invisible to any possible on-looker.

“She's aff her fockin' nut,” Tam grumbled.

“She does make one fair poin',” Lucca calmly leaned against the wall. “If the Dragon Prince lives, Queen Zubeia would never stand for us killin' Prince Ezran.”

“I am aware,” Runaan allowed his own moonshadow magic to make himself difficult to see. “This development makes things more delicate than we anticipated.”

“It was already 'delicate' after the lass let that soldier go,” Verrago's one hand was tapping at her side in a nervous twitch.

Standing to the side, Seumas lifted his left hand from how he had his arms crossed over his chest. His yellow-brown eyes looked hauntingly as the band around that wrist. “We're already bound. The last orders given were ta kill King Harrow and Prince Ezran. No one would question us for followin' through. But we will be marked and judged for sparing the Prince.”

“Can' imagine wankin' bein' all that fun with only yin hand,” Tam solemnly muttered. Verrago snorted beside him. She was the only one to find the joke funny.

“Wouldn' we face a Trial o' Lies ta go through with killin' him,” Lucca calmly countered. “The decree does state no' ta take a life tha' doesn' need ta be taken.”

“Didnae take ye fur the superstitious sort,” Verrago quirked an eyebrow.

A Trail of Lies was what the moonshadow elves called the hardships set upon someone when their choices or actions went against their Primal's decree. As the superstition went, the Trials were either warning or penance for one's sins, depending how far gone one's soul strayed. A white lie might result in a stubbed toe, but dishonest motives and/or cruel actions came at a far heavier price. A price usually decided by the offender based on past oaths.

“It pays ta listen ta the old ways,” Seumas' smooth retort was void of inflection. “And no. Our oaths ta the Queen o' the Dragons, and our bindin's would mean the Maiden's mercy would be on our side if we choose ta go through with killin' Prince Ezran.”

Runaan did not feel as certain as Seumas on the matter. As band master, however, he needed to set his beliefs aside, and considered the options. “Before we continue, I must ask any who wishes to join Rayla to go with her now. You will be granted the same allotment of time to leave without being assaulted.”

The band gave one another passive glances, but not one made any indication of leaving.

Runaan nodded, “Very well.” He made a sorrowful glance up to the moon, then back to his team. “Whether you believe in the old ways or not, I am going to give an order that is going to go against all we stand for. Let it be known that if the Primals pass judgment on us for these actions, may the punishment fall on me for giving the command.”

The group remained silent as Runaan met each of their gazes.

Seumas was a stoic wall as always, but he granted a small bow of his head to indicate he accepted.

Lucca was not much easier to read. Only the fact he was less experienced under pressure than he and Seumas, saw to his mild tell; a shift in his footing.

Verrago was always among the easiest to understand. Her body language was always loud, no matter how many years she had served as an assassin. Determination blazed on her face, but her tapping fingers announced her uncertainty.

At only nineteen years old, and with only three previous missions under his belt, Tam with still the most expressive. One hand on his hip, and the other rubbing behind his ear. His features mixed between curious, and nervous, but he was attempting to make himself look determined. “Aye. Alright.”

With his team's consent backing him, Runaan announced his plan, “Rayla's betrayal has given us an opportunity. Tam. You will act as a double agent by joining her. Gather as much information about the humans as you can. Make sure they leave the castle, just the four of you, and convince them to hide. Once they are hidden, find an excuse to meet with us back at camp. One of us will provide you with further instructions, there. If no one is there by noon, assume we are dead, and you are to kill the human Princes.”

“Whit am Ah ta do aboot Rayla?” Tam gave a subconscious head tilt.

Runaan did not appreciate the way the younger elf was knowingly eyeing him. There was nothing for it, though. He took a calming breath. Inwardly, he sent out an apology to Ethari. “I will leave her to your discretion.”

There was surprisingly no witty remark from Tam. He showed his maturity this time with a firm nod. His eyes reflecting Runaan's discomfort, but the leader knew Tam would do what needed to be done if it came to it. He would not risk being banished with his grandmother back home waiting for he and Verrago to return.

“Go now. While you can still can catch up to them,” Runaan ordered.

With that, Tam bolted for the stairs that Rayla and her human pets had gone down.

_Present..._

“Verrago,” Tam seethed. “Were ye lookin' ta get a knife in ye?”

His sister chuckled as she freed her sword from the tree's bark. Naturally, it had been high enough that, even if Tam had stayed put, she would not have hit him. “Dinnae be a wean, ye numpty.”

“Fock aff. Ye know how many humans Ah had ta skip 'round ta get here?” He glared as he set his knives away.

“If y'u two are finished,” Lucca jumped down from the rock ledge that had helped protect their camp. His attention on Tam, “Considerin' how late Rayla and the older Prince were spotted still inside the castle, we assumed we wouldn' be seein' y'u until nightfall.”

Tam shrugged, “Got lucky. We found a secure hidin' place.”

“So the weans are safe, then?” Verrago pressed as she moved out of the brush to stand with the other two.

He nodded. “Aye. The lot are pure done in that Ah expect they're all oot by noo.” Then he caught sight of the dark stain on the front of Verrago's top. Through the sliced fabric, he made out bandages that had patches of red in places. “Whit did ye do ta the unlucky bastart that gae ye that?”

Verrago looked down at her own injury, then crossed her arms, “Called her a traitor, 'n' let her go.”

Tam's jaw dropped, “Ye're sayin' _Rayla_ did that?”

“Aye. Didnae do it on purpose,” Verrago quickly explained upon seeing her brother's face growing red and his fist clenching. “Wee thin' froze up like a fawn when she realized she actually nicked meh.”

“That's more than a nick!” Tam growled. “Whit the fock happened?”

“We learned the hard way tha' the older Prince is a mage,” Lucca supplied. He sat on a rock as the reminder of the cold brought back phantom pain to his nearly frostbitten feet.

“Aye. Ye can thank Rayla fur that,” grumbled Tam. He knew her teaching the boy magic was going to bite them in the ass. “She's the yin that taught him the fockin' spell.” Then, in a poor, mocking version of Rayla's voice, said, “Its just a wind breath spell.” Back to his normal voice, he scoffed, “She winnae think it's all that innocent when he's eyein' her horns fur dark magic.”

“Haud on,” Verrago knit her brow. “He didnae use a wind breath spell. It was an advanced ice wind spell.”

“Are ye fockin' with meh?” So the prince lied about his magical knowledge, Tam pondered. No surprise there. The problem was, he had no way to call the boy out on it without giving away his conversation with Verrago and Lucca. He grit his teeth, “Oh, that deviously wee bastart. He had meh believin' he'd only learned magic tonight! Ah winnae make that mistake, again.”

“The spell back lashed on him,” Lucca's voice was far off as though he was thinking out loud. His eyes glaze as he remembered the moments after he had become trapped.

Tam huffed, “Serves him right.”

With a blink, Lucca came back to the present. He gave Tam a levelled stare, “It means he's inexperienced. If he had used the ice wind spell before, or even another advanced sky spell, it wouldn' have affected him like it did.”

Verrago's fingers started tapping at her side as her own memories played out, “He's right. The lad was knackered that he didnae try ta move oot o' the way when Ah came at him. Didnae even try another spell, ken? Ah had ta pull back ta keep mahself frae accidentally killin' him.” Her twitching stopped, and she seemed to jolt as though only just remembering something important. “Ah did slice his ear somethin' awful. Ah'll hae ta gie ye somethin' ta gie him so it disnae get infected.”

Tam scoffed as he shook his head, “Dinnae waste good medicine on the focker. Whit dis it matter if he dies o' infection?”

Verrago scrunched her face, and narrowed her eyes on her brother. “He's a wean.”

“So? Ye don' even like weans,” Tam met her challenging glare with his own.

“Only because Ah already live with yin,” she pointedly sassed back.

He did not let the comment sting before retaliating, “Away with ye, ye auld cunt.”

He hated how a triumphant smirk was pulling at Verrago's lips. He really needed to come up with some new insults.

“Runaan's entire plan hinges on keepin' both Princes alive and well,” Lucca pointedly interrupted before the pair could start arguing. “If it is even a good idea ta continue with the plan.”

“We hae already started a Trial o' Lies. Ah'm no' backin' down noo,” Verrago boldly straightened her stance as a means to say, 'go ahead and argue against me'.

Tam's stance, on the other hand, became ridged. “Since when do ye believe in the Trials?”

“Since last night,” she defensively hissed. “Twenty eight assassin missions since joinin' the band. Ah walked away frae each with wee more than a few scratches. Then, last night, Ah nearly bled oot frae an _accident_ durin' the wan time Ah was killin' fur a dishonest reason. It makes ye think there might be somethin' ta all the shite the auld yins talk aboot.”

The two of them exchanged a look. It was as though both of them were hearing Runaan reciting _the_ most sacred decree of the moon; Life is precious. Life is valuable. We take it, but we do not take it lightly.

Tam had never really considered his stance on some of the old teachings. The Moon's Decree made sense to him, but more a way to teach children things like honour, and honesty. And that there were consequences to one's actions. Genuine life lessons entwined in lore to make it easier to understand; nothing more.

But to believe that the moon carried favour to some, and punished others depending on their choices had sounded too black and white to him. There were far too many decisions in life that did not fit into a neat little package of 'this is good' and 'this is bad'.

His choice last night, however, he could see leaning towards bad. After all, Tam had known, and accepted, that he would breaking one of the moon's most sacred decrees; never welcome one as a friend if your intention is betrayal. Did that mean, from the moment he had followed through with that order, his soul had been marked? His heart felt uneasy with the thought that the spirit of the Moon's will- referred to as “The Maiden of the Moon”- was already passing judgment on him. Payment would eventually come due, and the last oath he had sworn was 'my blood for justice'.

Looking at his sister, he wondered if his punishment would be dealt via the blood in his veins, or through those that he shared it with?

Then again, Verrago had promised her own oath yesterday. Her sweet voice proclaiming, 'my eyes for truth' rang in his ears. Looking into those very eyes now, a stone dropped into Tam's gut.

He mentally slapped himself; this was no time to be getting superstitious. Verrago would be fine. He would be fine. There would be consequences to their actions, but it would not be because some ancient spirit of the moon was cursing them. He hoped.

“Y'u were no' the only one ta needlessly kill last night,” Lucca had intended the words to be reassuring, but it was tainted with his own sense of disgrace. “We all followed Runaan ta make a false attack on the King. Ah had ta have slain a good fifteen o' their soldiers.”

“Ye were trapped, 'n' fightin' fur yer life,” Verrago softly pointed out. It seemed not even drumming her fingers was easing her own anxiety. Tam had never seen his sister this spooked.

Lucca shook his head, “It doesn' matter. The battle was still a ruse for a dishonest purpose. If the Primals deem it, then Ah will face mah Trial o' Lies same as everyone else.”

A chill ran up Tam's spine. He cursed and ran his hands through his short hair. “Well... it's like Verr said. We're already up ta our necks in this shite. May as well keep gaun.” Despite his words, he could not shake the dread inside him. Even in the daylight, he swore he could feel the moon's eye on him. Keep the head, he reminded himself. Someone had to remain rational out of the three of them. “So, ye mind fillin' meh in on whit this plan o' Runaan's was?”

Lucca did not answer right away. He looked between the siblings. “First, is it agreed? We continue ta turn from moonlight; come wha' trials may?”

“Aye,” Verrago's answer was notably more grave than Tam's.

He gathered his thoughts, and then explained, “Five o' us was never goin' ta get past tha' many human guards ta get ta their King withou' the lot o' us bein' killed. And tha' was without Rayla and the Mage Prince's help. Runaan figured it would be less costly to kidnap the Princes, and use the spare one as a hostage in exchange for the King's life.” He tilted his head back and forth. “We would then need y'u ta hold onta Prince Ezran until we received word back from Runaan's shadowhawk ta Queen Zubeia regardin' wha' she wanted done with him. See wha' information you could get from him about his kingdom, in the mean time.”

“So, Ah'm on nanny duty? Perfect,” Tam sarcastically barked as a means to cover his discomfort. Kidnapping... Worse, keeping _hostages_ when they thought that he was their friend. Trials or not, none of it settled well inside him. Runaan had been right, his orders did go against everything that being a moonshadow elf stood for.

Maybe he should have just killed the kid while Rayla was busy trying to save the brother. He had an assassin's binding to fulfill, after all.

He looked between his band mates, “Ye know there are a number o' problems with that plan, ken?”

“Aye. But we were only countin' on Rayla, 'n' our bindin's bein' an issue,” Verrago answered. “Noo we hae her, our bindin's, a dangerous Mage Prince that might well be a prodigy, and a wean Prince that we dinnae know whit ta do with.”

“They have also taken Runaan and Seumas, alive,” Lucca solemnly added while rubbing his hands together.

“Hauld on. Whit are we doin' standin' 'round here then?” Tam shot pointed looks at the other two. “If they're alive, we need ta go get 'em back.”

“Aye, because the three o' us chargin' inta a heavily guarded prison that we dinnae know the layoot o' is gaun ta go braw,” Verrago sarcastically spat.

Tam was starting to get a sore spot from the amount he was rubbing behind his ear, “Think we could spin tradin' Rayla fur Runaan 'n' Seumas?”

Lucca gave him a pointed look, “And face Runaan's wrath?”

He snorted, “Naw. Ah like mah cock where it is, thanks.”

Ignoring the comment, Lucca continued, “Besides, Rayla is no' a traitor by our laws. A deserter, yes. And she will be banished for wha' she's done, but she is still one o' us. She doesn' deserve ta be handed over ta the humans ta suffer.”

“Last Ah remember, the laws say ye're a traitor if ye harm another elf,” he stubbornly jabbed his thumb towards Verrago's middle.

She glared at him, “If ye _purposefully_ harm another elf oot o' malice or greed. Ah told ye, she nicked meh by mistake.”

“Tam. Tell us now if there is goin' ta be any problems between y'u and Rayla because o' Verr's injury,” Lucca warned.

“Naw, Ah'll leave her alone, fur noo,” he scoffed his reply. “Got the egg o' the Dragon Prince ta think aboot.” A small twinge in his wrist caught his attention. It was somewhat a relief to realize it was just his wrist acting up again from years of throwing knives. Still, the ever present time limit pressing in on his thoughts like the tightness around his wrists. “So, whit are we gaun ta do aboot the humans? Sounds like they hae us by the short 'n' curlies.”

The other two could not agree more. The trio grew silent in a collective contemplation. The sheer difficult facing them in moving forward... was this what the Trial's felt like?

It was Verrago that broke the stillness, “Do we follow through with the original plan, or do we make a new yin?”

Given the group's unsteadiness towards the possibility of a Trial of Lies, that question felt far more weight than it should have. Were they to continue to walk the path born of Runaan's orders? Or should they step into a possible new set of Trials forged by their own impiety?

\--

This was embarrassing.

No, worse. This was mortifying! Rayla's face had become so red, it was turning purple. What had she done that the Maiden had felt the need to punish her so? This was probably for cutting Verrago. Yeah, that had to be it. This was certainly a fitting retribution. Thank the Primals her human companions were sound asleep. She looked up to double check. Yep, Ezran was still loudly snoring, and Callum was snuggling to his drawing book like a teddy banther.

Unbidden, her eyes returned to the reason for her embarrassment. She wanted to throw the book in her lap into the pool. Its might be water resistant, but it would still be satisfying to leave it in the water's cold depths. The only thing stopping her would be having to explain to Callum why his stupid book was in the stupid water. She would probably even have to stupidly go get it because the stupid human would stupidly drown for it.

So, what was she looking at had her worked up? Why, a diagram comparing human and elf penises.

After she had learned that- although she could see them- the humans riding boats near the river entrance could not see inside, she quickly grew bored. She considered sleeping, but having searching humans so close even though she was safe put her on edge. Having already sorted through both boys' packs, the only thing left was to read.

Oh, it had started off interesting enough. She still did not appreciate that 'weapons' were under 'accessories', but she had learned a couple things about stuff she never really thought about.

Things like: Why most elves wore arm bands instead of just putting on long sleeved tops. Turns out that one was because Xadia used to drastically change temperatures so much that it had been more practical. It had been so ingrained into normal clothing designs that even after magical weather became less moody, the fashion stuck.

Of course, there was plenty of things she did already know. She had skipped over the stuff about facial markings, and hairstyles. She did not understand why the author had filled two pages of notes on the difference between why some moonshadow elves wore purples, and others wore greens or blues (because that might be the only colour dye in their region, duh! She had rolled her eyes).

Anatomy was shaping up to be mostly a repeat of her biology studies in school. Yes, she knew how ears worked, and that elves naturally had better hearing than humans. Yes, moonshadow elves can see in the dark because of the reflector thingy in the back of the eye itself. Yes, horns were basically the same thing as animal claws, thus she could very much feel when they are touched or damaged.

Why was she reading this thing again? Oh right, so Callum would not be driving her crazy with endless questions all trip.

But then she had flipped to the next section. On the left was the bold title spelling out 'sex'. On the right... half a page of erect dicks. Of course the artist had been highly detailed in their rendition; both the side and front angle profiles. Each with equally well draw nuts dangling beneath. All of which had neat little lines pointing out 'head', 'shaft', 'pelvis', 'scrotum', etc. Were penis' really that vein-y? Why did the human example have so much hair? Why did the elf one have such a bulbous head?

Moon above, she found herself reading that first page.

_Before we begin, I would like to be clear that this section addresses the scientific side of the elven reproductive system. If you are researching the act of intercourse, it's cultural relevance, and/or the best forms of sexual stimuli, please refer to the “courtship” section of this book (see: Family & Community)._

Rayla scoffed; she would sooner carve out her own bits than flip to those pages. She was already sorely tempted to start ripping the book apart to ensure Callum could not read this stuff. Alas, as with the idea of tossing it in the water, he would notice, and she would have to explain her actions.

_Naturally, I cannot discus the anatomical differences between elves and humans without also addressing their reproductive system. As with much of the rest of their bodies, their genitalia- for the most part- looks and functions the same as ours. This, of course, should not be surprising as before the continental divide, human and elf coupling did occur, and opposite sex pairs were capable of successfully reproducing._

_After in depth research, and speaking with numerous elven healers, the only true differences in regards to the systems themselves were as follows:_

_The average lengths and girth of a male phallus_

_The quantity and consistency of semen released during ejaculation_

_The female's reproductive cycle_

_And an elf's gestation period (see: 'pregnancy and birth' in the Family & Community section)_

_First I will address the male's organs._

_There is one thing that must be addressed before continuing. As a male specimen myself, I know first hand the insecurities one faces regarding if one's penis is 'satisfactory enough'. Young men are especially vulnerable to these feelings as they have not yet learned how to sexually preform with what they have._

_Gentlemen, if there is one thing I have learned in my years as a male with 'below average' size, I can assure you that size does not matter. Please take this to heart as we go forward._

_Despite these words, I am sure there are still many of you who, like myself, are curious about how they 'measure up' to that of an elf. The answer, interestingly, varies depending on which type of elf you encounter. Therefore, remember, that this edition addresses moonshadow elves, specifically. The following is addressing their average sizes, and one must keep in mind there are individuals that range outside of these 'norms' the same as humans._

_The simplest way to compare penis size is that the elf is tall and thin, and the human short a stout._

_While flaccid, a moonshadow phallus can be 4.2 inches in length, but a slimmer 2.5 inches circumference. Compared to the human male that rests at 3.6 inches length, and 3.7 inches girth._

_Naturally, those numbers do inflate when erect. For humans, an erect penis averages out to 5.2 inches in length, and 4.7 inches circumference. While in moonshadow elves, their average is 6.8 inches long, and 3.3 inches thick._

Rayla's eyes widened as she reread those numbers. She had no idea how to picture the girth ratios; measuring circumference was not something she used... at all. Years of assassin training, and occasionally helping Ethari with his crafts, on the other hand, meant she could accurately guess a length within an eighth of an inch by just referencing her fingers and palm. She held up one hand, and mentally measured it out. She cringed and squirmed upon realizing that even a human dick was as long as her hand. Was that why sex was supposed to hurt the first couple of times? Maybe her fellow moonshadows were just too big. But then, humans were thicker. Did thickness even matter considering that part of the body could stretch enough to push out an infant? Did that mean that maybe she was better off considering a human lover first before trying with another elf. She was travelling with one her own age...

She flinched the moment she realized where her thoughts were going. Nope. No. No. No. No... not happening. She snapped the book closed. The noise echoed through the stone chamber. Of course, it caused the humans to jump up from their sleep.

“Huh... Wha...” Callum's hair stuck out as he sleepily looked around.

Ezran rubbed his eyes, and yawned, “What's going on?”

“It's okay. Everythin' is fine. The cave walls just made closin' this book super loud. Y'u can go back ta sleep.” At least if they noticed she was blushing, they could pass it off as her feeling bad for scaring them awake.

“Oh... okay,” Callum mumbled as he lowered himself back down to his makeshift bed. His breathing even back out in seconds.

Rayla could not help but smile and shake her head at him. No doubt he had not actually been awake for any of that.

Ezran, on the other hand, was far more lucid, “Are you okay?”

“O' course, Ah am. Why wouldn' Ah be?” she tried to play off as calm, but her voice was still a bit stiff from embarrassment.

“Well, people usually slam books closed when they're upset,” he calmly retaliated.

Perceptive little... “Ah'm fine,” she reassured him. “Just go back ta sleep. It's still goin' ta be a few hours before we leave.”

He watched her a few moments longer. Her gut twisted seeing worry sparkle in those kind eyes of his. “Aren't you going to sleep?”

“Ah will when Tam gets back.” She glanced towards the exit. From what she could see from the shadows, it had been a few hours since he left. Looking back at Ezran, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Ah just need him ta patch up mah head before Ah go ta sleep.”

The young Prince's eyes drifted up to the wound on her brow. He pouted a bit, but finally relented by laying back down. “Okay,” he yawned. “Goodnight, Rayla.”

Her fond smile became genuine, and her voice gentle, “Goodnight, Ezran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter is the bane of my writing existence. I had to have re-written it 5 or 6 times, at least. I hope you guys think it was worth it.  
> On the fun side, though, it did mean I had Rayla reach that part of the encyclopedia several chapters earlier than planned. My sanity needed this just as much as I'm sure you guys needed the laugh.  
> On that topic... Gentlemen, please mind the encyclopedia's note that size does NOT matter. It's coming from personal experience as a woman who had a lover for several years that had a 'small' phallus (Poor guy was so awkward about it at the start of our relationship). As my Gran always said, 'it's not about how deep you cast, it's how you wiggle your worm'.  
> Anyway, as always, thanks for reading <3


	14. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! I want to say a huge thank you to everyone for reaching 4000 hits. I am amazed by you guys over and over. You make writing this story go from good, to the best.

Even with human medicine in his system, Runaan was still able to wake to full alertness upon hearing keys jangling against his cell's lock. The wooden bed and the tightly wrapped bandages around his torso had not made sleep all that easy, anyway. He recognized the human King the moment the man entered. A pair of heavily armoured guards joined him. A fourth guard- the one with the keys- closed the cell door, and locked it tight. Not one of them looked afraid to be trapped in the same space as him. Why would they? The humans had him in a metal collar and chain attached to the wall like some rabid moonstrider. They need only stand far enough back to avoid his bite.

“I would like to introduce you to General Amaya and Commander Gren of the standing battalion,” King Harrow motioned to each as he spoke. “We have a few questions for you.”

Runaan gave a humourless laugh, but said nothing in response.

With a nod of approval from the King, the woman- General Amaya- began to make various motions with her hands. He was not sure what she was doing until the red-head, who was watching her, began to speak. “How did you get into Katolis?”

Ah, so the General was either deaf or mute. He did not answer to see what else the humans would unknowingly reveal to him.

General Amaya narrowed her eyes, and made more motions. Again, Commander Gren spoke for her, “How many of you are there?”

Once more, he did not respond to her.

“Why did one of them betray you?”

Silence.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then Gren mimicked her calculative movements with his tone, “Is it because she is lovers with Prince Callum?”

Runaan's composure shattered. First his jaw dropped opened as the words sunk in. King Harrow's own stance faltered. The look he was giving his General could have been interpreted as 'why did you just say that?' To Runaan, it just proved they were lying.

He grit his teeth into a snarl, “How _dare_ you suggest such a thing. She would not become lovers with that boy.”

“We have evidence that implies otherwise,” the King finally spoke. He was doing well in keeping himself appearing neutral regarding the conversation, but he could not hide the mixed emotions shimmering in his eyes. Emotions that screamed the King did not want to believe it, either.

“I do not care for what your evidence supposedly _implies_ ,” Runaan snapped back with vicious cold glare. “Rayla would _never_ defile herself by laying with a human.”

“Are you sure about that?” Amaya signed. “There is always that one subordinate that every leader misjudges.”

His fist clenched just to help distract himself from the pain caused by how hard he was grinding his teeth. “Perhaps that is the case among you humans, but I know my band.”

“And yet she betrayed you,” a satisfied grin marked Amaya's features.

“That is different,” he growled.

“How so?” she coyly countered.

Of course... they had used their lies to get him worked up. Runaan clamped his mouth shut. He would not let these humans play him.

The general and the King shared a glance. Then it was King Harrow speaking, “Who is she to you?” As the elf remained silent, again, he continued on. “I assume she is more than just a subordinate. You are close to her.”

“I oversaw her training. Naturally I would be close to her,” Runaan kept his voice cool, and schooled his face to impassive. “Why is my relationship to her of any concern to you?”

The King hummed, “I am mostly curious. I mean, Prince Callum is my son. If you and... Rayla? were related somehow, then the fact they are a... couple would make you and I a sort of in-laws.”

Both King and Assassin had to chock back bile. Neither realized the crinkle in their noses mirrored one another.

“They are _not_ a couple,” his tone was a rattle-gecko's warning to drop the lie. Rayla may have thought she had befriended a human, but she would not have become lovers with one. The very idea made Runaan's skin crawl.

“Does she know what silphium elixir is?” Amaya stepped in, again.

He returned to not answering.

“She dropped a bottle during last night's battle.”

Runaan gave a half-laugh, “You should know that you have given away that you are lying. Silphium may be an abundant weed here in the human lands, but it is a rarity in Xadia.”

Ehe General gave him a knowing look, “Yes. Because a rare plant on one side of the boarder is never smuggled in from the other.”

He smirked back at her hoping to annoy her, “Precisely why it is considered rare, instead of non-existent.”

Runaan was more than pleased to see Amaya scowl at him.

King Harrow spoke up, “Then it's not a common contraceptive among elves.”

“It is in the rare occasions one might forget what night of the moon it is. But, as long as one is mindful, the need for contraceptive among moonshadow elves is null.”

Honestly, he could not believe he was explaining this to humans. He had not even been the one to explain elven fertility to Rayla when she came of age. That had wisely been left to Ethari.

King Harrow's features became curious as his shoulders seemed to relax, “What you are saying is, based on the moon, moonshadow elves only have a specific window when they are at risk of impregnation?”

He knit his brow at the King's reaction. The human was either a very good liar, or he was genuinely concerned. In attempt to gauge which is was, he answered, “Yes. A female is only fertile from dusk two nights before the half moon, and ends at dawn the morning after.”

“So, no accidental elf children?” the General spoke up. No wait, she had not signed, Runaan realized. The Commander must be speaking for himself, then.

“Among we moonshadow elves, rarely is a child conceived unintentionally,” Runaan confirmed.

He was surprised to see a relieved smile on the King's face as the man sighed, “And based on what you are saying, I assume when someone doesn't realize what night it is, that is when you rely on silphium elixir.”

“Exactly.” The assassin eyed the humans. From what he could see, it was not a lie. At the very least, they were convinced it was true. The wheels in his head spun with questions.

Gren was back to speaking on behalf of the Amaya, “Is there any other reason an elf would use silphium elixir?”

He could not help the grin as the pieces came together, “Was that your entire evidence?”

“Not all,” the King countered. Then, more quietly admitted, “But it was the most predominant clue.”

Runaan huffed a small, disbelieving laugh. “Given it's rarity, silphium elixir only serves one purpose to us. I highly doubt Rayla would need it for that.”

The three humans became rigid once more. General Amaya made an aggressive step forward dangerously close to Runaan's range. “What reason?”

“Medicine,” he playfully answered.

King Harrow and Gren both had to reach out to stop Amaya from angrily charging at him. Collecting herself, the General was signing in a fury of movement. “Silphium _tea_ is used as medicine. The elixir is meant to prevent pregnancy, or eliminate one should prevention fail.”

“I have already established that it is not the first,” his voice smooth and even. “As I had said, Rayla would not need the elixir for herself.”

“Then she may have asked Prince Callum for the bottle in order to bring it back to Xadia,” King Harrow happily concluded. He met Runaan's gaze as though seeking confirmation. “If the elixir is rare, I assume there is a reward for returning with some.”

He paused a moment, then answered, “Bringing back the plant is rewarded. Human crafted elixir tends to have adverse side effects.”

That side effect being humans catching on to elven presence in their lands thanks to stolen medicine. Or worse, an elf interacting with humans to gain it through trade or lies. Thus, bringing back a bottle of elixir- even honestly earned or given- was highly frowned upon. He was not going to explain that to them, though. They did not need to know about elf activity in their lands.

King Harrow and General Amaya exchanged a thoughtful look. The King made a few clumsy motions with his hands. The General nodded, and then returned her focus to their prisoner, “Has she ever been in Katolis before yesterday?”

Deciding it was more entertaining to toy with her, he sarcastically answered, “You are aware it is a long journey from Xadia to your castle by foot, correct?”

“ _Before_ your mission to kill me,” King Harrow snipped. He raised his brow, “Say, this winter, for example.”

“Are you trying to disprove more of your _evidence_?” Runaan mocked the man.

“Actually, yes,” he confidently responded as he rested his arms behind his back. “I'm sure you would be just as relieved as me to know she and Prince Callum are not actually lovers.”

The assassin rolled his eyes, “I have already told you they are not. You might think your son is special because he is a Prince. But he is still a human. The son to the murderer of the King of the Dragons, and a human mage, at that. Rayla would never sink so low as to be with someone that practises such atrocities as dark magic.”

“Believe it or not, Prince Callum is not a dark mage,” the King answered, matter-of-fact. “I had not realized it at the time, but I witnessed an ancient magical artifact grant him mage abilities yesterday afternoon. I don't know enough about magic to know which he's preforming, but it is not dark magic.”

“He had a primal stone,” Seumas' smooth voice from the next cell over was too quiet for human hearing, but just loud enough for Runaan to make out. “He dropped it when I punched him, but Rayla fetched it for him before they disappeared.”

The leader was silent as he processed that information. Keeping his own voice low, he answered his comrade, “He has to have been practising for longer than they know.”

“Why do you think that?” the Commander's voice surprised Runaan at first. Until he remembered that the General had likely read his lips. Deaf it is, then.

Stamping down his annoyance at his own thoughtlessness, he responded, “The spell your Prince preformed last night is called the Ice Wind spell. It is advanced Sky magic to a degree that I have only heard of a rare few Sky Mages that can preform it. He would have needed years worth of study and practise to cast it at all, let alone during a combat situation.”

The King furrowed his brow, “Callum is fourteen years old. If the spell is as advanced as you claim, then he would have needed to be studying since infancy. Correct?”

He could not respond. The human had a point. That level of magic did require far more training than a mere teenager could achieve in their lifetime. Even if they practised since birth. The boy was a prodigy, then. A human Sky Mage... that degree of skill; especially if he only received the stone yesterday...

“Fock,” Seumas cursed from his cell. It had been loud enough to get the humans' attentions. Returning to near silent, he voiced Runaan's own thoughts, “What if he's been favoured by the Summoner?”

The colour drained from his face. If the Prince truly was favoured, then his orders, and his band's actions last night, would be an affront against two of the Primals. Both of their keepers would be out for blood. That is if they were lucky enough that only the Sky and the Moon were involved in whatever this was.

“If he is favoured by the Summoner, then it is possible she may be favoured by the Maiden,” he muttered at a level without care if human or elf could or could not hear him. Pride swelled in his chest, “They really are going to achieve peace, then.”

He had not been lying when he told Rayla she might be the fastest and strongest of any of them. She was talented; gifted that it had taken little sway with the council to allow her to be apart of a world changing assassination mission; despite her being a minor, even by orphan emancipation laws. She was independent, brave, and compassionate. Ethari had warned him before they left that Rayla's heart was too good for the work of an assassin. He had been right, and Runaan had believed it weakness in her. Now, however... What if she was simply answering to a higher calling?

Her words that begged him to call off the mission... was that the work of the Maiden acting through her? A test he had blatantly failed to even consider because of honour, and thinking he was following the Moon's decree. Until he gave the order that went against it.

By the Primals, what had he done?

“Is this Summoner and Maiden a part of some type of moonshadow religion?” the King interrupted his thoughts.

Runaan gave a short 'hn' sort of laugh. “I suppose that is the simplest way for humans to grasp such a concept. But it is not specific to moonshadow elves, alone. The six Keepers of the Primals are renown to all elves. Depending on one's arcanum- their connection to a Primal source of magic- depends on which decree they follow, and which Keeper favours or punishes them, accordingly. If your son was truly only gifted Sky magic yesterday, and can already preform advanced spells... Well. Then it would seem, we are on the brink of changing times, and your son, along side Rayla too, will be at the front of it.” He shook his head, “It is a shame sinners like you and I will not live to see the new world they create.”

He watched as unease formed on the human's faces. The General appear more unsure about Runaan than the topic.

The King, however, surprised him, “These Keepers. Do any of them wear a blindfold?”

Runaan could hear Seumas' chain rattle, and pictured his old friend had moved closer to listen in more intently. He always was far more faithful to the old ways than any other elf Runaan had ever met. Save perhaps the pilgrims.

Granted, that lot tended to take things to an extreme.

His thoughts vanished to a memory of the old temple in the far east of Xadia. It was the only one that bore imagery of the Keepers. Most believed that recreating the likeness of any one Keeper was blaspheme as it meant one was holding a Keeper to a higher esteem than the Primal Source. Though he had been there only once to officially be initiated as Silvergrove's Assassin Guild Master, he had stared at the face baring a blindfold long enough to remember.

“The Maiden of the Moon,” he answered.

King Harrow pressed on, “And would you say she is a symbol of justice?”

The elf wondered what the human was looking for. He could not be that interested in elven lore, could he? He studied the man's reactions while explaining, “All the Keepers represent justice on behave of their Primal in their own way.”

Seumas piped in, “Y'u could say the Maiden does more than the others, though. She, alone, stood against the tyrant dragon, Aggoria. Even though she was born small, and blind. It was her supposed weaknesses that allowed her to defeat him.”

After Gren translated for Amaya, she gave the King a pointed look, “As fun as listening to these stories are, don't you think we're getting off topic?”

Seumas, on the other hand, thought otherwise, “Y'u wanted ta know if ye're right ta think yer boy and Rayla are lovers. The Sky and the Moon have always been attracted ta one another. Their Keepers are a destined match, and so all their favoured are also drawn ta each other.”

The King frowned as he stared at the wall that separated them, “You believe that magic itself will bring the two of them together?”

“If they're no' already lovers, it won' be long before they are,” Seumas confirmed, then snorted a half-laugh. “Ah'm startin' ta think there really is a reason the lass had silphium elixir with her.”

If Seumas could see the damage his words had done to those inhabiting his neighbouring cell, he probably would have had a good laugh. Four faces were left shocked as the implication sunk in. Even the guard outside the cell needed to pick up their jaw.

Runaan tried to sputter a rejection, but he could not find his voice through his dismay. If the two were favoured to bring peace, then what better symbol than a halfling child? By the Primals, he begged that it was not so.

King Harrow zeroed in on Runaan, “Has she been in the human lands at all this winter?”

“I do not know,” he hissed back. “She was behaving differently, but nothing that would imply...”

He replayed in his thoughts how the news of her parents' cowardice had deeply hurt Rayla. She had suddenly needed to get away from the village; away from the staring and whispers. She would disappear for a day. Sometimes two, or five, or an entire week. Upon each return, she would rarely reveal where she had been. He had assured Ethari it was something she needed to do for herself, and that she was strong and smart enough to keep herself out of trouble in the meantime.

He had assumed she had been searching for her parents with the intent to confront them. Given the current topic, he wondered, had she been using that time to sneak into the human kingdoms, instead? He imagined that, in her state of emotional vulnerability, her judgment might slip.

But enough to lay with a human Prince? The son of the very man that sent the Dragon Guard fleeing, at that. Oh no... what if one of her journeys was to the human lands to confront the King, and that is how she had met the Prince? Had her determination to be apart of the assassination a desire to ensure her lover was spared? Or a plot to get them to meet with the boy in hopes of peace? If it was the latter, had she known this entire time that the Dragon Prince lived?

He glared at the King, “If any part of your son has touched her, rest assured I will get free from here, and exact my revenge.”

A thoughtful look crossed Amaya's face. Then, she narrowed in on him as she signed, “She's your daughter.”

He could feel his chest grow cold. A heavy breath was slowly released to keep himself from answering, but that in itself gave him away.

“I see,” King Harrow's voice was far off.

“Like father, like daughter,” Amaya motioned as she carefully watched Runaan. “Until she decided she likes her human boyfriend more than her dad.”

Before Runaan could snip back his response, the King firmly stated, “General Amaya, I believe that is enough questioning for now.”

“If I may, your Majesty, I do have one last question before we go.” He motioned his approval, and she once more had her attention of the elf. “What is your name?”

He scoffed, “Why does that matter?”

“Per Katolis war laws, since your next of kin is considered a possible ally, I will need to inform her that you are imprisoned awaiting trial,” her eyes were hard steel. She did not need to say it, but the implications that he would be facing execution was there. Nothing in her posture indicated remorse for his impending doom.

He gave a humourless laugh as he lowered his head. They had no idea that he already walked a Trial of Lies. More so if two Keepers- the destined pair, at that!- were involved. Once again raising his head, he boldly spoke, “My name is Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves. I know how fond humans are of labelling your graves, so it is spelled R-U-N-A-A-N.”

“And the other prisoner?” King Harrow asked.

“You can ask him if he wants you to know it or not,” Runaan smoothly answered.

An aggravated sigh could be heard from the next cell over, “Seumas of the Moonshadow Elves. S-E-U-M-A-S.”

“Thank you,” the King plainly stated. “We shall speak again soon.” He then nodded to the guard outside the gate.

They unlocked the cell, and the three humans left. It was quiet for several moments after that. Runaan laid himself back down on the hard bed. His eyes on the sky through the barred opening. He should have asked what other evidence the humans supposedly had. Over and over he considered Rayla's behaviour the last few months.

It was not possible, was it?

“Y'u know this means ye're goin' ta live long enough ta meet their halfling, right?” Seumas quipped from his own bed.

Runaan's insides gave a horrible flop. It would be a fitting punishment to him. It would mean he failed friends' trust in protecting their teenage daughter from wayward suitors. For another, it would mean welcoming the human family he was sent to kill as kin. “Merciful moon, I hope not.”

\--

King Harrow was not fairing any better. His eyes were on the tower he knew to house the temple of the paragons. General Amaya snapped her fingers in front of his face. Looking at her annoyed frown, he realized she must have been trying to communicate with him for some time.

“My apologies,” he forced himself to focus. “Uh, you were saying?”

She eyed him a moment before signing, “When was the last time you slept?”

He gave her a small smile of gratitude for her concern, “The night before last, I'm afraid.”

“Then go sleep. No one can make proper decisions when fatigued,” she gave him a firm stare to indicate she would not be argued with.

He chuckled and teased, “You should heed your own advice.”

“I'm going to bed as soon as I have relayed what we have learned to Corvus,” she stubbornly countered. “He will find the boys, and the elf girl.”

“Rayla,” King Harrow corrected. At the pair's confused looks, he said, “She has a name. We should use it.”

Gren glanced at Amaya as if to ask if she agreed. The General, however, narrowed her eyes at the King. “They're not a couple,” she signed. “We have a perfectly innocent reason for Callum having the elixir in his possession. He probably saw her picking silphium, she told him about the shortage in Xadia, and he intended it to be a gift.”

“That still means they are friends,” King Harrow wisely responded. “Good enough friends that Callum would have needed to brave an embarrassing conversation with a healer to get her that bottle. How many people do you think he would do that for? Especially if she did not need it for herself?”

He could see her clench her jaw. She started to sign something, but then stopped and shook her head. Starting anew, Gren translated for her, “You're right. I was going to argue he might have asked Lord Viren's daughter, but asking a girl he has a crush on for silphium elixir would be more embarrassing than simply going to a doctor or healer.”

King Harrow eyes widened as a new understanding dawned on him. He met Amaya's eyes, “Lord Viren had claimed to have found them in a closet together.”

She quirked her brow, “Yes. I still say they were attempting to hide.”

“Humour me,” he stated, but then followed up without time for a response. “With how hectic yesterday was, which closet do you think he would have paid enough attention to that he found them in it?”

Curiosity reflected in her eyes as she motioned, “one of his own.”

“Exactly,” he paced as his thoughts tumbled out. “He has a storage space just outside of his office. I've seen inside a handful of times whenever he went to get a book, or an elixir, or magical plant from it. That may have been where they got the silphium.”

General Amaya touched a finger to her lips as she thought. Then, warily signed, “Yes, Callum could have grabbed the bottle when he saw it. That doesn't mean that is the reason they were in that closet.”

“True. Thus, why else would they risk sneaking into the high mage's tower when the entire castle is on high alert for any sign of moonshadow elves?”

Realization dawned on her face, “They were looking for something.”

King Harrow stopped his pacing, and nodded, “When we captured the assassin leader... uh, Runaan. I gave the order to arrest Rayla if we found her because I was unsure of her motives. He had mocked me saying that if I wanted to know why she betrayed them, I should talk to my High Mage.”

“Whatever they were looking for, it was important enough to turn a daughter against her father's wishes,” she concluded as she followed his train of thought.

“Exactly. Callum risked his life last night because he insisted he needed to talk to me. He said it was urgent. I think the kids found what they were after.” A thousand new ideas and questions echoed through his thoughts. His mind buzzing with the need to find out what Callum had meant to tell him.

“Any idea what it could have been?” Amaya did not appear disappointed when King Harrow shook his head. She had already been expecting a negative answer.

Gren cheerfully hummed as he spoke and signed his own thoughts out loud, “It's kind of like twenty guesses! What would an elf want, that humans would think is important?”

King Harrow knew enough sign language to know the gist of Amaya's signs, 'Viren hide, then magic'.

He nodded in agreement, “Some sort of powerful magic. Perhaps to a mythical degree, even.”

“Why do you think that?” Amaya curiously inquired.

“The elves obviously all know what the thing is. Yet, the only one that seemed to think it could bring peace was the minor of the group. The adults acted like she was being foolish. Or they did. They completely changed their opinion because they believe Callum has been favoured by some Sky deity of theirs.”

“It's a shame sinners like you and me will not get to see the new world they create,” Amaya quoted. Her eyes unfocused as though she was seeing the movement of Runaan's words play out in front of her.

Once more, King Harrow's eyes turned to the Cleric's tower. The last time he had been in there himself was just after Sarai's death. It was where they had held her Vigil since her body could not be recovered from Xadia. “Perhaps they are right. If you think about, our pantheon has six Gods and Goddess. Theirs has six Keepers of magic. Their Maiden of the Moon sounds similar to our Lady of Justice.” He could see Amaya had her arms crossed as she studied him from the corner of his eye. Meeting her gaze, he added, “That would mean her beloved, the Lady of Dreams, is the same as their Summoner.” He smiled feeling absurd, “Callum has always been a talented artist.”

After a heartbeat, Amaya lowered and shook her head to indicate she also thought he was being ridiculous. “This is what I mean about you needing sleep. If you keep going on like this, before long you'll become another King Bartrumn.”

The small group shared a laugh. King Bartrumn was an odd King. During his rule, the man that had created a number of down right strange laws in attempt to 'reconnect humanity to the Paragon'.

Things such as never being allowed to wear black on Saturdays.

That no one could eat meat on Thursdays.

Most memorable was that, every time it stormed, the head of house- which included the King himself- was to strip naked, and stand out in the rain for three hours, or until the storm passed. Whichever came first.

Needless to say, when his son became King, many of the laws were swiftly abolished. Though, there were still some rural villages that insisted fasting for six days before planting ensured a more bountiful harvest. Come to think of it, Katolis did always fair better than the other countries, even in times of famine...

“Perhaps you're right,” he conceded. “The children will tell us what they found as soon as we find them. For now, I will _try_ to get some rest.”

A satisfied smile settled on Amaya's lips as she gave an approving nod. “If you start thinking like King Bartrumn again, just remember our pantheon technically has seven deities.”

Of course... The Lord of Shadows; enemy to the other six. He was known for tempting wayward souls with ideals of power, riches, and admiration. In truth, all he did was bring about war, deceit, and death.

An uneasy feeling tip toed up King Harrow's spin, and across his skin. Was that not also how dark magic worked?

His voice turned grave as he answered back, “technically, so does theirs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited interrogation. It was actually going to be apart of last chapter, but then the scene got huge. Plus, I realized I should probably write in King Harrow and General Amaya's post interrogation conversation.  
> I hope you guys found it enjoyable :)  
> As always, I look forward to your comments and feed back! <3


	15. Sleep

Sleeping on a stone floor was definitely not comfortable. Ezran felt achy as he stretched away the last bits of sleep. He first spotted Callum who was still out cold. His eyes lingered on the split in his brother's ear. Most of the blood from before had been washed away during their drop in the water. A fresh batch did, however, scab over the wound. The skin around it looked inflamed. Worry twisted in the young Prince's gut.

He pulled his eyes away to see if Tam had returned yet with medicine. Though the shadows were starting to lengthen with late afternoon, the rude elf was still no where to be seen. Then, Ezran's eyes fell on Rayla. She was leaned against the wall. Her head lowered as though falling asleep, but then she would jolt back up.

'She hasn't slept yet,' Bait confirmed Ezran's suspicions.

He pet the glow toad's head to say he a heard him. Then, softly spoke, “You should go to sleep.”

Rayla's half-lidded eyes snapped open. Her entire body became tense as she searched out the cause of her start. She relaxed upon seeing him watching her. With a couple of blinks, she settled back, “Ah'm fine, Ezran. Ah have ta wait for Tam ta get back, remember?”

“I know. But I can wake you when he gets here,” he countered.

She shook her head, “Thanks. But Ah need ta stay awake in case someone tha' isn' Tam sneaks in here.”

“But I could wake you up for that too,” he knew she was going to keep arguing. He could feel her emotions the same as he could understand animals. The most prominent was concern trying to be covered with pride. Then a memory of something Dad always did to him when he did not want to sleep popped into his head.

She heaved a heavy sigh, and rubbed her eyes, “It's alright. Tam will be back soon.”

“Okay. How about I tell you a story while you close your eyes? It's not sleeping. You're just relaxing,” he recited his father's words.

She smiled at him, “Fine. Why no'?”

Feeling victorious, Ezran moved himself to sit directly beside Rayla so his side was pushed against hers. He could feel her muscles flinch as much as he could see her face momentarily wince. He did not mean to let his powers slip, but they did. For the briefest second, he was not himself. He was taller, with sharper hearing, and missing a few digits. His forehead hurt above his right eyebrow. His right shoulder was uncomfortable like a stretched muscle. He could feel various other small cuts and bruises along his skin. The worst part of all was his left side, though.

His ribs were radiating with pain. It hurt to breath. The pressure from another body against his was like poking a broken bone. Double checking, he was relieved to learn that the bones were not actually broken. They just hurt. A lot.

And then he was himself again. He quickly pulled himself away from her injury. “What happened to your side?”

She was making that face again. The one where she felt guilty for making him worry, and would play off her pain in hopes of reassuring him. “Ah took a hard hit while fightin' last night. It's okay, though. Ah didn' break anythin'. It barely hurts.”

He could sense that she had a greater pain tolerance than him. Yet, he knew how much that was bothering her. That must be why she does not want to sleep, he concluded. She was hurting too much to relax.

“So, how abou' tha' story?” she was trying to distract him. They both knew it.

It was not a terrible idea. Ezran could not help her feel better, but he could at least take her mind off things so that she could rest. Carefully, he moved to her other side. Once again, he sportively leaned into her, though not as much in case doing so aggravated her other side.

'Lap?' Bait croaked beside him.

Ezran looked at the egg he still held. He could feel the baby dragon inside grasping onto him. The poor thing had been without any love for months. He needed Ezran's comfort more than Bait did. But his best friend also deserved somewhere nice to curl up.

He looked up to Rayla with his best pleading eyes, “Can Bait lay in your lap?”

She and the grumpy glow toad watched one another. Neither was impressed with the idea, but Bait was not going to turn down a comfy lap if offered. She made the mistake of meeting the young Prince's puppy stare. He could see her resolve breaking. “Fine.”

'Happy' Bait trilled. His body glowing a bit more and his tail wagged. It was enough to amuse Rayla that she picked the creature up, and settled him in her lap. He recognized that slight surprise in her eyes. Most people thought that since Bait was an amphibian, he would be covered in cold, mucus. The fact his water tight skin was soft, and warm always threw people off. Said toad trilled again while resting his head.

With everyone comfortable, Ezran happily asked, “Do you know the story of the brave, little glow toad? It's Bait's favourite.”

“Is it now?” Rayla playfully smirked down at the creature.

'Like you don't love stories about your own kind,' Bait grumbled.

Ezran slightly giggled, “Yep. It's one of the best stories to listen to when you're eyes are closed.”

She rolled her eyes, but made a point of closing them after. “Alright. Let's hear it, then.”

He instantly dove into the beloved tale. The boy had barely gotten to the part where the glow toad used his light to lead the scared, lost child out of the woods when Rayla's breathing notable evened out. She looked so peaceful with her head rested against the rock wall. The occasional twitch indicating she was lost in some dream or another. Ezran smiled to himself.

'What happens next?' the Dragon Prince's energy pulsed out in wonder. Bait was also expectantly waiting for him to continue. The young prince happily obliged them both.

\--

King Harrow had also struggled to sleep. He did not need any sort of sleep aid with how exhausted he was. Yet, staying asleep was the chore. His dreams were muddled pieces of truth and make believe. At the forefront was his sons. Shadowed figures stealthily closing in on the unsuspecting boys. Sometimes their deaths would be instantaneous. Sometimes, he was forced to watch them be tortured.

At one point, Sarai stood between their sons and the shadows. That's when Thunder flew in. Harrow shouted a warning, but he could not reach them. Heavy chains bound him to his throne. He could only watch as the mighty dragon opened his maw, and lightning struck forth.

But then the dream changed for the weird. Callum had moved forward to grab the lightning. The moment it touched his hand, it formed into a ball. Then the boy shouted a spell. In seconds, the Dragon King transformed. The same way he had gone from flesh to stone through Viren's spell, Thunder instead changed to ice. Where the spear had been in reality, a shape glowed into existence. It was a solid light, yet he somehow could tell it was an egg.

“Here!” something was shoved into his hand. He looked down to see an elven sword. Its match still in the hands of its owner.

Confusion clearly written on his face, King Harrow turned his eyes up to look into the face of the elf in front of him. She was still see-through like he remembered. Yet, this close, he could more easily make out the details of her face. The upside down triangles running down her cheeks starting from beneath those vibrant purple eyes. The cut on her forehead was trickling blood. It made her hard stare feel intimidating.

Darkness was closing in around them. He lost sight of everything but the egg, the elf, and himself. He looked again between her and the sword. What was she expecting him to do?

Then Sarai's voice called from the darkness, “Break the chains, Harrow!”

Snapping to realization, he grasped the sword more tightly. He thrashed against the chains' holding him, but his wrists were locked in place. There was no way for him to get a good angle to cut himself free.

“Dad, break the chains!” Callum's voice called out next.

“I can't,” the King struggled more. The metal biting in to his skin.

“You can do it, Dad,” Ezran's voice followed after.

“It's impossible,” he growled. He glared at the elf, “Can't _you_ do something?”

She did not answer. She did not even move. She just kept watching him; waiting for him to act. All around him, his family kept encouraging him to break the chains. Their voices growing more desperate as the darkness closed in. It twisted around the egg like a snake. It squeezed the light from it until it shattered into dust. With nothing to counter it, the dark tendrils moved onto the elf girl. King Harrow called to her. Told her to look out. She fought against it with all her might, but she was eventually lost into the abyss.

He felt his chains tighten that he could no longer hold onto the sword. Something slithered down his arm. It settled in his lap, and then reared up. That was when he realized he was looking into the poison green eyes of a soulfang. He tried to quell his fear as the black hooded snake judged him. A breath later, the serpent lunged.

King Harrow jolted awake. He groaned as reality- and his injuries from the night prior- caught up with him. He did not feel any more rested than he had before attempting to sleep. Atop the chair beside his bed he could see Pip watching him in the low lighting. He had to untangle his covers before he could properly sit up.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he glanced at the drawn curtains. Warm sunlight still outlined them in an orange glow. He rose to open them. A sense of relief washed over him the moment light touched his face. Pip flew to his shoulder so he could nuzzle the King's cheek. He obliged his friend with gentle feather rubs.

The dream was already fading back into the nothingness it had come from. By the time he had opened his patio door to walk outside into the early evening light, all he could recall was Sarai and the boys telling him to break the chains, and something to do the elf girl.

Rayla, he mentally corrected himself. She had a name, and he needed to start referring to her by such.

That did make him recall one of his other tidbits of dreams. In that one, Callum had come home, hand-in-hand with his... with Rayla. Despite the both of them being incredibly young, his son happily introduced the girl as his wife. When he argued about their ages, they had laughed at him. Something to do with Moon and Sky traditions... the rest of the dream was long since forgotten. He shook his head at the ridiculousness he felt.

Instead, he turned his attention to the roof that he knew to have the opening above it. His heart stopped. Dangling in the air, he could see servants were carefully extracting a wrapped body off the roof. Pip gave a disgruntled squawk when the King hurried to get him to take his perch. Cold dread filled his veins as he marched from his chambers. The pair of door guards were surprised by him roughly pulling the doors open. They did not say anything as they followed behind him.

It was fortunate that King Harrow knew the entire castle by heart. His head certainly was not paying attention. He kept replaying the image of that wrapped body. It had been so quick of a glance that he realized he had not taken the time to consider the size. There had been at least two guards pulling it up. That meant it was not a child, right?

Ezran was hardly heavier than a sack of flour. He could easily lift his young son onto his shoulders.

Callum, however, was bigger. He had been growing into a strong young man. Was it him beneath that linen?

In what was both a blink, and an eternity, he made it up the steps of the throne tower. His eyes were on the three bodies laid out on the tower floor. The wraps were still tightly bound around them. Yet, now that he stood this close, he could see the folds in the fabric indicating all three were adults, and they were wearing armour.

The situation caught up to him. He realized he was being stared at by those surprised to see him dishevelled, and still dressed in his pajamas. He cleared his throat, and took a stance to attempt to appear more put together than he felt, “Were these soldiers in the tunnel?”

“Yes, Sire,” one of the gathered soldiers answered.

King Harrow realized a second later that Corvus was not the one to answer. In fact, he was not among the group in front of him. Was the brave young man one of those currently laid out before him? Had he been wrong, and the elf turned on them?

Fate answered his question when a grappling hook snagged onto the tower wall. A couple guards moved to assist. Moments later, the dark haired tracker was safely standing with everyone else. He thanked his peers for their help. Then, his eyes fell onto the King.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed. “My apologies. I know you had asked for news the moment I found anything, but I did not want to disturb you until I had a full report to provide you.”

“It's alright, Corvus. I appreciate your thoroughness into this matter before coming to me with all you have found,” the King kept his tone regal and understanding. “Since I am already here, what do you have to report thus far?”

It was irresponsible to put the man on the spot without giving him time to organize. Surely, details might be missed. But Corvus proved every bit a professional deserving of being among the ranks of General Amaya's battalion.

“The Princes have not yet been located, but the space has been disturbed by a number of unknown parties. There are several small blood drops coming from the direction of your personal chambers consistent with the minor injuries Prince Callum was described having. Given the blueprints provided, and where the droplets suddenly end, I can assume they used the escape shoot.”

King Harrow could feel his jaw loosen, “Any indication that either of them was harmed?”

“There was a pile of, what appears to be, regurgitated jelly tarts near the shoot,” Corvus' nose crinkled just a little, but he was quick to return to professional. “It was kept to one side near a wall. There isn't any blood spatter, or anything to indicate a scuffle. It would be safe to assume Prince Ezran may have simply had a poor reaction to seeing Prince Callum's injuries.”

The King nodded his agreement with that assessment. Ezran was never one for violence, after all. He looked down at the bodies for a moment. “Where were these soldiers found?”

“Near the hall entrance, on the opposite side of the opening from the escape shoot,” Corvus firmly answered. “I will have to refer to a doctor to confirm, but, from my own experience, their wounds are exact. Whoever killed them knew where to hit to ensure the quickest death possible.”

“You mean like an assassin,” it was not a question. King Harrow was merely confirming the unspoken implications. He was not sure how his soldiers had come off as a threat to his sons, but for some reason the elf- _Rayla_ \- had seen fit to kill them. It went against her actions during the fight. Perhaps she had killed the soldiers, and Ezran had been sickened to find out, thus she agreed not to do it, again. At least, not around them. It was a solid theory, but that did not bode well for Rayla's fate. She would have to stand trial for her actions, and his people would want retribution for their fallen.

“Yes, your Highness,” Corvus' confirmation brought him back to the present.

“Is there anything else you have found worth noting?”

The young tracker caught on that the King was asking about Claudia. “Some time after the blood started to get tacky, someone walked through it. They left foot prints leading to the opening, but then it suddenly stops. One of the prints just before the opening is slightly smeared. There are also weapon marks in the two floors. The higher floor marks I would say are to climb up, but the lower floor marks looks like someone bracing themselves with a weapon close to the edge. ”

“It sounds like Rayla attempted to save Claudia after she tripped,” King Harrow pondered aloud. That might be something in girl's favour to avoid being beheaded.

“That is a possibility.” He did not mean for his tone to give away that he did not agree.

If King Harrow was honest, he understood where the young man was coming from. It all sounded just as likely that Claudia was pushed to her doom, and Rayla had merely braced herself to check the deed was done. Again, there was no way of knowing for sure until the Princes' and their elf friend -yep, still weird to think about- could speak on the matter.

“Thank you for all your hard work. Please go get some rest. I will likely need to call on your skills, again, soon.”

Speaking of sleep, King Harrow decide he would see the doctor about a sleep aid, after all.

\--

As the first hours of twilight set in, so too did a thick fog. The murky, dreary atmosphere felt fitting to Soren. For once, he was not dressed in armour. He should be, though. Or, at least something ceremonial, seeing as he was attending Claudia's Vigil. Yet, it felt wrong to be dressed as a knight when he had not been able to protect his family. His baby sister... the person his mom and dad had entrusted him to protect... he had let her down. He let them all down.

Looking over to his sister's casket, he was once again marvelling how peaceful she looked. Her arms gently resting over her chest with a unlit ceremonial candle tucked in her hands. The clerics had done a superb job in getting her cleaned and prepared for tonight. Opeli had been kind enough to ask him what he thought Claudia would have preferred regarding make-up even though she knew her well enough to already know the answer.

He was almost expecting her to jump up any second. That this was just one of her stupid pranks that she had somehow got the entire castle in on. With each well-wisher that came by, and each condolence he received, that hope faded more and more.

Perhaps it hurt more because he had no one to mourn with. He alone stood beside the casket for her vigil. He had sent his mother a letter earlier that day to let her know what had happened. He had no idea if she would get it. Just like she never seemed to receive any of his other letters. Even if she did, it would be days before she could make it to Katolis from Del Bar. Bodies do not keep that long.

His dad was sound asleep in his bed. Lord Viren had no idea what had come of his daughter. The doctor's had even warned Soren his father's body had taken a great deal of damage by being encased in ice for as long as it had. He might not wake. One of the two guards that had been frozen along side him had passed just that afternoon. The other was not fairing any better.

Truthfully, Soren already felt lost as was. He did not know what he would do if he lost his father, too. The one person he would have turned to when trying to handle so many feelings was laying in an eternal sleep before him. He wanted to cry, again, but he had no more tears to give. It felt like his eyes would remain swollen and puffy. It did not help that he was exhausted. Not physically, though he was still battered and bruised from that stupid elf girl. The healers had given him a sleep tonic that morning so that he could be rested to keep vigil that night.

No, he was exhausted on the inside. A kind of tired that no amount of sleep could chase away. That was why the fog was fitting to him. It matched how his head felt. Those standing vigil over their own fallen loved ones in the valley had started to whisper. He tuned all of them out.

It was just fog. Fog that had rolled in over the course of minutes. Super thick fog that was making it impossible to see two feet in front of his face.

Okay, maybe there was something weird about the fog.

Even taking a step closer to the casket, he struggled to see Claudia's sleeping form. The candle lights had become glowing orange spots in an otherwise dark grey world. Not even the last rays of sun could penetrate it. A chill ran up Soren's spine. Between his father and sister, he knew full well that that feeling was something to do with magic.

Just what was going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another cliffhanger? I know, I'm terrible.  
> I used to babysit a stubborn seven year old that was determined they would stay awake every night until their mum got home (three hours past their bedtime). I eventually learned the little trick that Ez used on Rayla. Funny enough, the kid never caught on :P  
> Also, at last I was finally able to give Soren a small scene. It only took 15 chapters... and his sister's death. Poor guy :(  
> As always, I love all your comments and support. I hope you enjoyed, and we will see you again next week :)


	16. Aspiro Advection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it guys! Over 5000 hits, 201 kudos, and 96 subscribers. I am speechless. I don't have a way to express my gratitude enough.  
> But, I hope an extra post this week is a good start ;)

Callum's stomach gave another growl. He tried to ignore it. He really did. But the longer he went without eating, the more he started to fantasize about food. Which just reminded him that he had missed breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In fact, the last he could remember eating was a quick supper- a sandwich- before going in search of Ezran. Thus, once again, his stomach roared.

His stomach was not the loudest, however. Ezran's belly grumbled with the ferocity of a caged banther.

“Ah get it. Yer both hungry,” Rayla snipped. She was still pouting that she had been tricked by a ten-year-old into falling asleep. No matter how much she had needed it.

“Maybe we could...” Callum started to suggest.

Rayla cut him off, “No.”

“You didn't even let me finish,” he retaliated. He was bored, sore, and hungry. All of which was making him grumpier than Bait.

“Y'u were abou' ta suggest we leave the cave ta go find some food,” she gave him a knowing look with her chin resting on her fist. “Which we wouldn' have ta do if a certain little frog monster hadn' drank all mah moonberry juice.” Not for the first time she turned a glare on the only individual who was currently not hungry.

The berry coloured glow toad hiccuped in response.

“Well, we can't just stay here and starve,” Callum huffed. He grabbed another pebble, and tossed it into the water.

Rayla rolled her eyes, “We won' starve. It's no' even been an entire day.”

“Yeah, but Ez has never gone a whole day without food before,” he waved at his brother.

The youngster in question looked between the arguing pair. He hugged Bait since the egg was back in his bag, and gave them an uncomfortable grin, “We could go find Tam, and see if we find any food on the way.”

“He has a point,” Callum's tone became hopeful. “Tam said he would be back before the evening. It's almost night time. He might need our help.”

Rayla did not reject the idea right away. Her eyes turned to the forest, as though expecting Tam to suddenly appear. It had not escaped anyone's notice that she was growing more restless the more night set in. As with the times before, she would take one look at the humans before her, and her resolve returned. “If Tam is in any sort o' trouble, we would only put him, and ourselves, in more danger goin' out there. We stay put.”

“What if he doesn't come back?” Ezran tentatively asked. The other two were already thinking it, but, until now, no one wanted to address that possibility.

“He'll come back,” Callum assured him. Honestly, he was perfectly okay with the possibility of Tam changing his mind, and chose to go home instead. But he also knew that it was far more likely that, if Tam did not return, it meant something terrible had happened to him. That idea did not settle well inside him, at all. “He probably needed a nap, or stopped for some lunch, and lost track of time.”

He glanced toward Rayla. She was watching the forest, again. Her gaze was unfocused, and the hint of concern marked her features. Tam was her band mate. She would know better than them what him being late might mean.

His stomach gave another grumble. All things considered, they needed a distraction. Something fun to take their minds off their missing teammate, and their gnawing hunger. There was not a whole lot to do, though. Callum might have turned to the question game, but he did not feel up to it at the moment.

He fiddled with the primal stone in his lap. Since waking, he had spent a few solid hours drawing the thing. Then another hour of studying the runes he could cast on top of that. To his dismay, there had not been a 'make stone fluffy like a cloud' spell. What he was really itching to do, of course, was practice more magic. That ice spell last night had taken nearly everything out of him. If he had needed to cast it twice, he probably would have passed out. He could remember overhearing Lord Viren explaining to Claudia that magic was like a muscle; the more one practised, the stronger one became.

He was pretty sure that Rayla would be against him playing with supernatural forces, though. Thus, he needed an excuse. The same as they needed something fun to do. So... why not combine the two?

“Okay. Since we're stuck here waiting for Tam, how about we go skating?” he stood with bubbling excitement.

He watched as Rayla looked at the stone, then the water pool. She met his gaze with a 'don't even think about it' stare.

But, of course, he had already thought of it.

“Uh, wouldn't the water need to be frozen to go skating,” Ezran said slowly as if his brother had not noticed the water was, in fact, not frozen.

Callum grinned ear to ear as stood and held out the stone, “That's what an ice making spell is for!”

He knew he was making the right choice the moment he saw his brother light up. Excitement radiated off of Ezran in waves.

Rayla scoffed as she also stood. Now at eye height with him, she set her hands on her hips, “Oh no y'u don'. Magic isn' a toy for y'u ta play with when yer bored.”

“I'm not playing with it.” His voice giving away he knew he was definitely playing with magic. Still, he continued to try to logic his way through. “I would be practising. That way I learn how to not freeze people or things that I don't mean to.”

Her stance did not change, but he was glad to see her eyes had softened some. That had to mean she was thinking about it, right?

Thankfully, Ezran came to his aid, “Skating would be a fun thing to do until Tam comes back.”

She was forcing herself to continue to look stern, Callum noticed. The puff up of her shoulders was for show. She was frowning, but it did not reach her eyes.

Seizing his chance, he pressed on, “We could also chip pieces of ice into snow cones.”

The frown was disappearing. The prospect of something to mildly sate their empty stomachs was too tempting. Her shoulders and head dropped. “Fine. But if either o' y'u slip and fall inta the water, Ah'm no' divin' in after y'u.”

“No problem. I'll just freeze the entire cave pool,” he happily concluded. He had no idea if he could actually pull it off, but, at least now, he had permission to try.

He carefully found his footing as close to the water's edge as he dared. For a moment, he considered how best to cover as much water as smooth as possible. After all, the ice he had made last night had had been dangerously spiky. Not great skating conditions.

He decided waving his spell hand back and forth super quick should do the trick.

The cold rune came to life beneath his finger. Once again, the curly tail dripped with ice. “ _Aspiro Frigis_!”

He had to force himself to keep his hand from jerking at the cold burning sensation in his palm. His arm flailed exactly as he planned. Black spots were starting to speckle his sight after mere seconds. He could feel his entire body begging for him to stop. Enough was enough, so he swished his hand down to make sure what ice he had made was anchored to the stone ledge. At last, he closed his palm.

Callum had not realized how much the pressure behind the hail was helping him stay balanced. Without it, he started to stumble forward. Strong arms braced under his own. He turned a grateful smile over his shoulder to Rayla.

“Way ta go. Y'u almost knock yerself out makin' an iceberg,” her words were sarcastic, but her gentle gaze screamed 'are you okay?'.

He gave his best 'I'm good' grin. Except it came out as a half grimace. Unlike last night, the frostbitten feeling had extended past his fingers into the rest of his hand. Not even his gloves held any warmth. His lungs had that chill inside them that one got from breathing in winter air. He almost expected to see his breath when he exhaled, but, of course, it was not so.

“It kind of looks like a banana,” Ezran's quiet comment drew Callum's attention to his creation.

Well, he had made a lot of ice, but he had not frozen the pool. It was just a large, long hunk of iceberg. His mood deflated; so much for that idea.

Rayla secretly gave a sideways glance to the older Prince. After letting Callum stand on his own, she made a show of tilting her head as she considered the ice. “Ye're right,” she then offered him a coy smile. “Admit it, y'u just wanted ta show off yer fancy ice sculpture skills.”

He appreciated her attempt to cheer him up. Playing on her comment, he gave a half-hearted shrug, “What can I say? When the muse strikes, one must create.”

“Well, it's a lovely ice banana,” she pat his shoulder. Then she set her finger on her chin, and pretended she was observing fine art. “Or is it a feather. Y'u know, since ye're a sky mage.”

The reminder that he was a mage did lighten his heart. Even if he had not made a place for them to skate, he had still done magic. “You caught me. I was trying to make a wing.”

Catching on to the game, Ezran piped up, “If you make it a little taller, it would definitely look like a wing.”

Callum nodded his agreement, “It is kind of skinny to be a whole wing.”

He could simply add a little to the top. There was a few spikes to give it a feathered appearance; if one squinted. Without realizing he had, Callum was already getting ready to cast again. He was stopped by Rayla's hand lowering his own.

“How abou' we just say it's a feather for now, before y'u pass ou' from magical exhaustion,” her voice leaving little room for argument.

Considering he could already use another nap, she had a point. Relenting, he returned the primal stone to his pocket. For the next couple of minutes, the trio started to name off shapes they could see out of the ice. Eel, worm, leaf...

“A long boat.”

The pair of teens' heads whipped to the side to look at Ezran. Callum was quick to look over the ice with a new perspective. They would have to ride it like a horse, but it did look like a boat. It was bobbing and floating with the pool current, too. The only thing holding it in place being his ice bridge anchor.

“Huh,” he was already stepping up to test the bridge's hold.

“Wha' are y'u doin'?!” Rayla yanked him back.

“I just wanted to see if it could hold our weight,” he motioned to the ice.

Her eyes narrowed, “Why?”

“Because then that means we have a way out of here that doesn't involve swimming through a river,” he logically countered.

She looked at the water, and then to the ice boat. Neither felt like a good idea to her. Though, a boat was the lesser of the two evils. “Ah'll check,” her voice firm against her nerves.

Tentatively, she moved forward. The bridge anchor did give a few snaps to indicate it would crack if she stepped on it wrong. She drew a single blade in her left hand as preparation to catch herself if need be. With one last step, she was able to lift herself onto the top of the berg. She straddled the seat-like area near the back of it. It hardly dipped down under her weight.

“It's perfect!” Callum's excited shout echoed back to him. He lead his brother forward, “Here Ez, you get on next.”

Ezran did not hesitate as he climbed aboard. Callum and Rayla each prepared to grab him in a slip. He settled at the front part of the 'saddle'. When he set Bait down in front of him, the glow toad grumbled, and turned red. Then he made a point of climbing up to Ezran's shoulders, and laying on his back pack.

Ready for the last part of the test, Callum gathered his sketch book, and repacked bag. He heard a clatter, and the shatter of glass behind him. Looking back, he realized some smaller items had fallen from his bag. He made a mental note that he _really_ needed to fix that tear as he shoved the pencils, and bar of soap into his pocket.

He made it up the ramp. As he braced his hands, and raised a foot over the seat, a loud crack sounded beneath him. The bridge fell away beneath his other foot. Thankfully, he did not need to be caught to avoid the water. That did not stop Rayla from grabbing his shoulders, and hoisting him up. Her teeth were gritting as she did. Once seated, Callum looked side to side that the gentle current was already pulling them out of the cave.

“Looks like we're getting out of here,” he sheepishly grinned over his shoulder.

Rayla only glared at him as she rubbed her right shoulder.

It took a solid minute for their ice raft to leave the safety of the cave. With nothing to steer it with, they were quickly washed away with the much stronger river current. It made all of them glad they had not tried to swim this.

Rayla swivelled her head to glimpse the castle above, “Y'u know we're goin' ta be seen, right?”

“So?” Ezran innocently inquired.

“So, yer guards think y'u two are infected with moon madness,” she gave Callum a meaningful stare.

The memory of Soren shouting an order to arrest Rayla _and_ him caused him to shrink down, “Oh. Right. Er, should we get off, and swim for the shore?”

“I don't know if I can swim in this,” Ezran leaned over to better see the steadily increasing current.

Unnoticed by the Princes, their elven friend had also eyed the water, and started to turn green. “No,” she croaked through the need to hurl. “It's better if y'u make an ice paddle.” She paused to keep her rocking insides down. “No point gettin' wet if we don' have ta.”

“Are you okay?” both princes turned their heads to look at her with Callum's inquiry.

“Great,” her sickly voice was coloured with plenty of sarcasm. “Ah just love that we got on this giant piece of ice ta make it easier for humans ta catch us.”

“Okay, lecture received,” Callum sheepishly accepted, but it did not deter his joy to be out of the cave. “But you got to admit, this is better than trying to swim out.”

It was better, but also worse. Thus, she opted to ignore the comment all together. “Can y'u make an ice paddle, or no'?”

“Uh,” he scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, I'm more likely to freeze our legs to our boat.”

“Ugh.”

“Hey guys. I think we're coming up to the Valley of the Dead,” Ezran pointed ahead of them.

All of them could make out the dip in the cliffs that formed the valley. Even with the last rays of daylight reflecting off the water, they could make out the lit torches of wake vigils.

“Ah take it tha's yer crypts?” Rayla subconsciously shrank down to make it harder to see her. It would not help, of course. Everyone would notice a large hunk of ice carting passengers as it floated down the river during late spring.

“Yeah, there's going to be a lot of people there because of... well, what happened last night,” Callum cringed.

Ezran twisted in place, “Do you have any spells that can make us invisible?”

“Ah told y'u, Ah don' even make mahself invisible. And tha's with a full moon,” she snipped back.

Callum suddenly started flipping to the rune page in his sketchbook. He knew which one he was looking for thanks to his earlier studying, but he wanted to be sure about how to pronounce the spell. “What if, instead of being invisible, we make ourselves harder to see?”

He did not see Rayla's fond smirk, “Now ye're talkin' like a moonshadow elf.”

It felt like a compliment to him considering who it was coming from. A tiny blush spread over his cheeks. Drawing closer to the valley, he forced himself to focus on the rune and corresponding spell. He propped the book on his brother's pack, and pulled the stone from his pocket.

As with the ice wind spell, this one started the same as Aspiro. The tail part was like someone drawing the top of a cloud by two conjoined 'm's. After all of that, there was also a straight line over the top of the entire rune.

He traced out the lines to the side. As he did, his ears started to feel stuffy. The last bits of chill in his hands was chased away with warmth. By the time he had finished drawing the rune, his palms were sweating. That coiled air in his lungs was starting, again. He figured that meant he would need to blow out like with the wind breath spell.

“ _Aspiro Advection_!”

The sensation of blowing outward was no different than the wind breath spell, except the air was hot in his throat. His ears popped as a thick bellow of fog escaped his lips. He kept blowing for as long as he could before he ran out of breath. Even though he had stopped, the cloud that now extended on one side, was expanding. They could not see how far out it stretched as it completely washed over them.

Even though it was his own making, Callum could not help but think the fog was eerie. Despite it being inches from their feet, he could not see the river. He could hear it splashing against their raft. He could feel the current bouncing them along. But he could not _see_ anything.

Ezran shuffled back as far as the egg in his pack would allow him to get closer to his big brother. A green coloured Bait glowed as he looked around at the unnatural mist. The light did help cut through some of the haze, but only enough for Callum to properly see Ezran. He moved to hold onto his brother's shoulders as a silent support.

Then, something touched his own shoulder, and he jumped. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Ezran squeaked nervously. His head zipping back and forth in search of danger.

“Sorry. It was just me,” Rayla softly answered.

Callum stuttered a relieved exhale, “No. It's okay. The fog is just kind of creepy.”

In front of him, Ezran quietly nodded his agreement.

The older Prince looked back, “You can move closer if you're nervous.”

Though the haze hid most of the intensity, he could still tell she was glaring at him. “Ah'm no' nervous.”

Oh, right. Moonshadow elves hate showing fear.

“Right... uh, I knew that. You were just putting your hand on my shoulder to make sure I was okay, right?” he supplied the lie for her.

“Uh, yeah. Tha's it,” she did not carry her usual confidence, though.

Callum thought fast, then smiled when the perfect bluff came to mind. “Well, uh, you can put it back, or move closer, or whatever. Since I'm looking after Ez, I'd feel a lot better knowing my friend is watching my back for me.”

He did not think she was going to go for it, at first. Then, he heard shuffling behind him. The pair blushed as she pressed up against him, and wrapped her arms around his middle. It was somewhat difficult with his pack in the way, but she managed. Finally, she rested her cheek at the base of the back of his neck.

“There. Ah got y'u, scared-y Prince,” she softly teased. It went unsaid, but there was also gratitude hidden in her words.

He could not help a nervous chuckle. It did feel nice to help her feel better; even if she pretended it was the other way around. Though her embrace was actually helping him, too. Granted, the encyclopedia in his bag was digging into his back, and his groin was painfully cold against the ice. No matter his discomfort, though, he was grateful.

To Rayla for her kind support.

To magic for making the boat and fog that was bringing them closer.

And especially to the book whose advice allowed this all to happen.

He could only image what a mess this adventure would have been if he had relied purely on what he had thought he knew about elves. For the briefest second, his anxiety pointed out there would not even be an adventure if not for the book. And luck. Definitely lots of luck.

“Do you guys think Tam will be able to find us?” Ezran asked after several more minutes of silent riding.

\--

Great. He had almost made it back, and the blasted fog had rolled in. Tam had a few choice curse words knowing full well this was the Mage Prince's fault. At least now he had something that proved the lad knew more spells than he had admitted to Rayla. He was looking forward to calling the little bastard out on his shit.

Now...Which way was it to the river?

_Splash_!

Tam quickly thrashed his way back to land before the current could take him downstream. He turned and glared at the water. Then, his eyes turned up to the greyed out world to snarl at the spot he was pretty sure the kids were at. He could not kill the boy, but he was sorely tempted to take off one of his pinkos for this.

“I think I heard something over here,” a voice called through the dark.

Turning towards the sound, he could just make out a spot of orange within the grey. His fingers twitched towards his blade pouch. His ears were trained on the approaching footsteps.

There were two of them. Definitely human based on their loud, crunching boots. The telltale jangle of metal armour rung with every step. He hesitated only long enough to wonder if attacking would stain his soul further.

Nah, this was taking out a potential threat.

Tam drew two knives, and slipped away into the fog. The pair of soldiers did not even know they were being hunted until it was too late.

\--

To onlookers, Seumas was placid to a point one would assume he was bored. Inside, however, a cold dread clenched around his heart. Since awaking in this human prison, he a sense of foreboding lingered within him. It felt as if each moment he lived beyond the dawn was borrowed time. Then to learn that he may have struck a favoured of one of the Keepers...

He watched as the warm mist seeped into the dungeon. The torches made it still possible to see, but he could tell that beyond the bars overhead, there was nothing but grey to fill one's view. He had not felt any pressure change. Nor the change of temperature one expected to create fog. Clearly, this was an unnatural cloud. He had a pretty good suspicion that the Mage boy had something to do with this. The fact it was happening now, just before the moon showed its face...

He wondered if his choices damned him to such a degree that the moon did not even want to witness the Maiden's punishment for him.

The faithful side of him could not take it any longer. He carefully balanced on the bed, and bent the knee. He would have preferred to kneel on solid ground, but his chain was not long enough. It was hardly long enough to allow him to lay comfortably on the bed. It sounded like Runaan had lucked out with one that allowed him to lay on the floor if he wished. If one could consider that luck.

But Seumas' focus was not on his chain. Instead, he bowed his head, and, beneath his breath, he began to recite an old prayer.

“Merciful Moon, y'u brin' light within the dark. Y'u reflect the day's choices o' your children with yer many faces. See me now, sweet Moon. Ah am o' yer children. Ah am yers to be judged, for Ah dared ta turn from yer light. Ah wish ta journey back ta yer welcoming glow. A beg o' y'u, O' Mother o' Secrets, tha', should yer Maiden strike, it is with mercy-”

No one could argue that Seumas was not a strong elf. His strength was something he had always had in abundance. Strong enough to carry both his son and daughter on each shoulder no matter how big they were getting. It was why he was always the striker- the one that took out possible obstacles to a mark- during missions. It was what defined him as an assassin, and why he always promised his strength for honour during a binding oath.

But there were some things that simply could not be muscled through.

He never saw the fist sized stone pass through the bars overhead. He did, however, feel the moment it connected with the side of his skull. The impact was dizzying, and he instinctively drew away from it. The sudden motion saw him tumble forward. The pain to his head caused him to misjudge catching himself. Instead, his arms missed the bed completely, and gravity yanked him down.

It was a small drop. It should have been harmless. Yet, there was just enough space between his neck and the chain collar that when his body jolted to a stop, the whiplash snapped his neck. There was no connection remaining between his brain and his organs, a doctor would note. Everything from the neck down instantly ceased to function. His heart was not pumping. His lungs were not breathing. Most notably, he had absolutely no control of his muscles. His strength was gone.

Mercifully, where the rock had hit him caused his brain to cease function sooner than his snapped neck would have. The human guards had not even had enough time to realize something had hit him before he was gone.

Back in Xadia, the light of a floating metal flower diminished, and it sunk in its pool.

\--

Lucca carefully made his way out of the castle's grounds, and across the bridge. The fog had been an unexpected blessing to their plans. There was a flurry of noise behind him as he disappeared within it. He was tense the entire walk back to the forest. The inability to be sure he was going the right direction was unnerving. Thankfully, about when he reached the outskirts of town, the thick fog had started to lift. It allowed him to confidently move a little faster.

Once in the shade of the trees, he whistled. Seconds later, he got a whistle back just ahead. Several paces, and he met up with Verrago.

She happily sighed upon seeing him, “Fock. The noise the humans were makin', Ah thought they might hae caught ye.”

“Ah think our message might o' hit someone when Ah threw it,” he lowered his hood.

The image of some unsuspecting human getting smacked in the face by a flying rock in the fog made Verrago snort a laugh, “Let's hope ye killed the bastart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fog is explained, but wicked things still happen within. My poor Seumas. Again, his death has purpose, but I felt so bad that it had to be him. We barely got to touch on his character and what a good daddy he is to his kids. RIP big guy.  
> As always, thank you for reading! Thank you again for all your love and support. I look forward to your feedback, and I will see you guys again next Thursday <3


	17. Blood and Anger

It was not the first time Lord Viren had awoken in pain. Through the years, dark magic took its tole on his body. He could feel the now familiar tightness in his skin when it greyed, and that mild burning behind his eyelids. The left one was definitely aching more than the right, today. He wheezed out a half groan. His lungs felt constricted, but there was nothing laying on his chest as far as he could tell.

Ah, that was a new development. This was going to make mornings even more unbearable.

He raised his hand with the intent of pinching the bridge of his nose to alleviate the steadily increasing headache. Instead of skin, his fingers touched gauze. At least, his index and middle fingers touched gauze. Confused, he tentatively opened his heavy eyelids. Except the left one remained dark. Before he could ponder that reality, he realized his hand was also bandaged. The majority of it concentrated around his last two fingers. Even through the bandage, he could tell something was not right. Those fingers were shorter than they should be.

His hand trembled as his breath became caught in his throat. There was no mistaking what he was seeing. Yet, he forced his weary frame to sit up. Every core muscle strained as though he was trying to lift a horse and carriage. The blanket fell away to reveal his torso was bare of clothing. He huffed and panted, but kept to his desired task. His other hand moved with intention to remove the gauze.

Except he did not have a second hand.

It felt like an eternity as he stared down at the remaining stump. It did not stop at his wrist. Whatever had taken his limb had cut away to within an inch of his elbow. An ever growing panic crawled through his skin like beetles. His eye searched out his surroundings.

There was some comfort in seeing his own four poster bed. Another quick sweep, and he confirmed he was in his own sleeping quarters. His eye fell to the vanity mirror. He threw back the covers letting the night air run over his naked body. He twisted to set his feet on the floor, and then that was when it hit him.

He had no feet. He hardly had a left leg, which was more than could be said for the right one.

Against the pressure squeezing his lungs, Lord Viren screamed.

He did not register that his door had been ajar. From the hall, two guards followed behind a healer. The healer was trying to calm him. He could tell by the gentleness in the man's tone, but the actual words did not register in his mind.

Lord Viren desperately clung to the doctor's shirt. “My legs. Where are my legs?”

“Lord Viren, you need to calm down,” the healer forced the mage to focus with two strong hands on his shoulders.

“What happened to me?” A frightened tear rolled down his remaining eye. Sweet Paragons, he only had one eye!

The healer seemed to consider his words, and then carefully explained. “You were trapped inside ice for a long time. Your limbs had suffered severe frost bite. They could not be saved without endangering your survival.”

At the word 'ice', memories flooded back into Lord Viren. He remembered the cold prison chilling his body to pain, and then numbness. He could feel how incredibly tired he was getting as his blood seemed to slow in his veins. Yet, his head had not been trapped. It took a few seconds to remember his eye had something to do with that elf girl. No, wait... she had punched him, but she had moved away before something lodge into his eye. He could somewhat recall seeing a fletching in the peripheral of remaining eye.

“Lord Viren,” the doctor softly called. His eyes were calculative, no doubt going through a number of health checks. “Do you understand what I just said?”

The mage licked his dry lips, “Yes... yes, I understand.”

The healer nodded. He turned to address one of the guards, “Please inform Sir Soren that his father has awaken.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard left immediately after.

Lord Viren knit his brow, “What about Claudia? Both of my children should know that I am awake.”

Plus, he would need her help with some rather dark spells; even by his standard. He wondered if the Night Vigil had already been held for the soldiers that had died protecting King Harrow. The last he could recall, the King, himself, had survived. If it was still early, he knew a 'friend' that could aquire one of the dead's bodies. Or at least the limbs he would need from it. He could already feel the headache of negotiating such a deal.

His thoughts had distracted him enough that he missed the minor look of remorse the healer was giving him. “I am sorry to inform you, Lord Viren. But Miss Claudia is dead.”

It was like he was inside that ice block, again. His daughter. His precious baby girl... she could not be... “No. T-that's wrong. It can't be her.” His voice grew louder the more he spoke.

“I know this is difficult to accept-”

“I'm telling you that you're wrong!” Lord Viren's anger radiated off him like heat from the divide. “My daughter was no where near the elves! Check her bedroom. She's probably in her reading nook!”

The healer set his jaw, but pity shimmered in his eyes. Still, his voice was firm, and understanding as he responded. “She's gone, Lord Viren. There are several witnesses that can confirm it is Miss Claudia. Sir Soren is holding her Night Vigil as we speak.”

No. It had to be a mistake, his mind insisted. Soren was impressionable, and unobservant. The young lady he was holding vigil over now might hold some resemblance to Claudia. If enough people were convinced it was her, then he would eventually believe it to.

If he was honest, even as thick-headed as Soren could be, his son would not mistaken some random dead girl for his sister.

That did not mean he was willing to believe that Claudia...

“I need to see her,” Lord Viren boldly commanded. “Bring me to her.”

“Lord Viren-” the sense of protest in the healer's voice set the mage's wrath ablaze.

“As High Mage, and a member of the Royal Council, I demand you take me to my daughter at once!”

The doctor bit his tongue. He gave a small bow, “As you wish, my Lord.”

The middle-aged man walked towards the hall, and waved the remaining guard to follow. Through the open door, Lord Viren could here low whispers. From the occasional words he could make out, the doctor was making arrangements to have him taken to the Valley. Good.

He could get this mess cleared up.

But his strategic side of his mind was far too used to considering multiple possibilities. What if it was Claudia? A lump formed in his throat. He needed to be prepared for what awaited him in the Valley of the Dead. Though he did not want to advertise it, he did know a ritual that could bring back the dead. It was entirely theory as no other dark mage had actually succeeded before. There was also no telling the damage the ritual's backlash would do to his body.

Then, he looked down at his stump arm. He was already damaged by this point, anyway. It would be worth it to bring back his little girl from beyond the grave.

He and his 'friend' were going to have a long chat tonight.

\--

It had been a long day. Like Soren, General Amaya had opted to use a sleep aid earlier that day. Except, she was not planning on holding a Vigil. She knew some of the soldiers that had fallen; some of them almost as close as extended relatives. Yet, she was sure their spirits would still rest peacefully while she was busy finding her nephews.

She especially needed to find Callum. King Harrow's ramblings about the Paragon being the same as the elves' Keepers had seeded itself in her brain. The other elf's warning that 'if they were not already lovers, they soon would be' increased her determination. Powers that be or not, he did have a point.

An artistic teenage Prince... A rebellious teenage warrior... Each on opposite sides of a war making their 'love' for one another forbidden and dangerous. It was page straight out of a romance novel. Heck, throw in a sub-plot of how their fathers are bitter enemies, and ta da! She could see _herself_ reading such fantasy, and cheering for the pair of lovers.

But still... An elf! Really? A moonshadow elf, at that! Sneaky, murderous little ass-holes that would kill a human for sneezing in their general direction. That girl was going to literally stab Callum in the back when she grew bored of him. Amaya had to find them before that happened.

Or worse... Her insides already flopped at the thought of the stupid kids eloping. Nope, she cannot say family holidays will be all that much fun with an elf-in-law. For Callum's sake, he had better hope he would not made her a great-aunt any time in the next ten years. Oh, she would not react well to that for a number of reasons, at all. Not for the last time, she prayed Sarai was looking after the kids. If they did commit the naked tango, _please_ let them notice they lost their silphium elixir _before_ they need it!

A motion to her right caught her attention. Gren was signing to her, 'She says this is the spot they found the footprints'.

The 'she' he was referring to was a guard from one of the morning search parties. There was also a young man- top trainee in his class, as he boasted several times- that took up the rear of their team.

Amaya dismounted her horse along side Gren and the other two. The lead soldier guided her to a spot near the riverbank with a wave of her torch. General Amaya may not have the natural tracking skills that Corvus possessed, but she was plenty observant enough to come close. Plus, the mud was soft here. Even the most untrained eyes would be able to easily find tracks. In the fading daylight, and the torches, she could easily see the imprint.

She crouched down to get a better look. They were already starting to get covered over with shifting earth, and blown leaves. If she had not already been told, that would have indicated to her these were from this morning. As the report had said, there was only one set, and the heal and toes pointed away from the water. Also as indicated, they were on the smaller side. It could belong to a young adult, or that of an elf. Considering who she was hunting for, both cases would mean one and the same individual.

Then she started see the things the report had missed. The front of the print dug deeper than the back. That meant the one that made this tread put most of their weight on the balls of their feet. Some spaces were smoother than others; the shoes were well worn. Finally, there was the telltale point then round at the toes; definitely elf.

A small breeze ruffled near by weeds. The torch light caught a shadow. Narrowing her eyes, Amaya carefully pushed the plant to the side. Hidden within was another imprint; a simple, deep rectangle. She judged the distance of it from the foot prints. Then, she stood, and stepped over to the other side of the prints. She parted more grass, and gently overturned some leaves. Beneath one of the leaves, she discovered the matching rectangle.

So the elf had used weapons to gain leverage onto shore rather than their hands. Was it a counter to risking four digit hand prints, or an accident born of the current's speed? The former would mean the elf was smart. The latter would indicate recklessness. Which was it, then?

Amaya looked up at the grand cliff side across the water. Katolis castle perfectly seated at the top. No matter how she studied the rock face, there were no niches or openings to hint at where the mage tunnel escape shoot would have lead. There was no doubt magic was at play. She thoughtfully turned her gaze to the base. There was the swell and swirl of water exactly as one would expect when current met stone.

She could not place it, but something felt off. She decided she was going to have to get a closer look. Unfortunately, the time it would take to get a boat, board, and then get to the right spot would mean night would fully be on them. It would have to wait until morning. Likely for the better, as her battalion would be fully rested and able to assist.

Putting the river out of her mind, for now, she turned to the three waiting parties. 'Has the shoreline been checked since this morning?'

She could see Gren translating for her.

The lead soldier shook her head, “No, Ma'am.”

'We should check if the elf has returned, or if the Princes have left this area since. You two are to follow up river for a hundred paces. Commander Gren and I will do the same down river.' General Amaya order.

“Yes, General,” the soldier woman handed her torch to Gren. Then, she lead the new recruit up river. Their eyes set to comb over the dirt as they went. She was, however, disappointed to see they were stomping around, and not even checking the weeds. It would be a miracle if they did find anything. All the more reason she wanted Gren with her to check down river. If the boys had escaped, it would have been a difficult swim. They would have been swept down much farther than the elf.

The sun dipped lower as the pair continued their search. More than once they had to slow so that the torch could give them accurate light. There had been one promising trail. Two sets of human prints. One set even child sized. When they followed it thirty feet into the woods, however, they came to a hunter's cabin. A single mother lived there with her three sons. The youngest two boys- seven and thirteen years old- had gone to the river earlier that day out of curiosity regarding so many soldiers in one place.

It was while they were question the boys about anything they might have seen, that a thick fog rolled in. Amaya kept her reaction neutral to avoid scaring the children. Having resided at the breach as long as she had, she knew the feel of magic on instinct. She turned to Gren. His torch giving them slightly better visibility in the dark grey.

'Spell?' he signed.

She nodded, 'Have the family go inside, and lock the door.'

Gren naturally repeated her instructions. They waited for the huntress to wrangle her youngsters inside. The Commander then nodded, and signed, 'locked'.

'Stay close. Watch your back,' she readied her shield, and took the lead.

The magic fog made navigation disorientating. Avoiding roots and brush was slow going. Their horses were a bigger issue. The great beasts pulled against their reins more than once when the wind turned shadows into moving shapes. In this terrible of conditions, it would have been better to stay in one place in a back to back guard stance. Magic fog, however, meant someone was trying to give themselves cover. Someone like her nephews, she hoped.

When they safely made it back to the riverside, the fog was starting disperse. It was not gone, but they could, thankfully, see more than two feet in front of them. The horses were still acting flighty. She could feel their hot breaths, and the vibrations from their nickering. Seeing their ears swivel this way and that, she wondered what they were hearing.

Gren's shoulders did ease a little, though. That probably meant there was not any sounds he would think were out of the ordinary. He did not move out of a battle ready stance, though. In these conditions, an elven archer would see them before they saw the elf.

'Let's find the other two, and wait for the fog to lift.' Amaya ordered.

Gren firmly nodded that he understood.

Ever cautious, they followed up stream. As time passed, the fog was vanishing almost as fast as it had appeared. The first rays of moonlight was cutting through, and making their journey easier. Amaya pushed back a whirl of questions that dared to distract her. Instead, she focused on the hope that this meant Callum and Ezran had still been close by. Even if that also meant their elf friend was nearby, too.

You know what? Fine. She would welcome the damned moonshadow with the same bone crushing hug as her nephews if it meant seeing the boys safe and sound.

That thought lasted a whole of fifteen minutes. That was when they came upon the dead bodies of their two search party members. Their horses were no where to be seen. The recruit's dull eyes were still wide open. The slash across his neck looked to be his only wound. It would have been a quick death.

The older soldier was slumped against a tree. The amount of blood on her armour leaving it difficult to tell which had been the killing blow. There was some splatter over her and the trees, and dents in her armour. Her sword was stuck in the dirt a good ten feet from the body. From what Amaya could tell through experience, the woman had not gone down without giving her killer a good fight. With any luck, she may have even wounded her attacker.

In the pale moonlight, Amaya spotted a single foot print just barely pressed into the grass. She knelt down to better look it over. It perfectly matched the muddy ones from earlier.

She noticed Gren was walking towards an old tree on the other side of the scene. She made sure to keep her eyes trained for any hint the murder was still skulking about. It seemed the elf had retreated, though. Which left Gren free to dislodge a knife from the tree's thick bark. He returned to her side, and presented it to her.

'It looks like the one used on the three Corvus had found,' he signed his thoughts.

Amaya clenched her jaw as she fully agreed with that assessment. It was the same elven made design. The same weight, and the same point of a throwing knife verse a true dagger.

'If the elf has killed again, then it's likely the boys are close. Ride back to the castle, and gather as many soldiers as possible. Have Corvus meet me at this spot,' Amaya's motions were firm with her barely withheld anger.

Recognizing the blaze in her body language, Gren decided against protesting. He offered the torch, but she waved him off. Then, he mounted his horse. With an unsure look about leaving her in obvious enemy territory, he signed, 'be safe'.

She gave a confident smirk, 'The elf is going to need it more than me.'

He grinned, and then charged off into the dark. Only mild wisps remained of the fog allowing him plenty of visibility to head for the bridge. With her friend riding out of sight, Amaya allowed herself a small show of anger by tightly gripping the handle of the elven knife. Her eyes once again fell on the fallen pair. She had been a General long enough to know that sometimes, orders came with casualties. It eroded most of the guilt, but she could not keep herself from feeling responsible. She already decided that from now on, search parties were to be conducted in no less than groups of four, at all times.

She sighed to herself. This was five lives taken by the same elf. Likely six, considering Viren's daughter, but King Harrow was determined to give that one plausible deniability. The three in the tunnel could have been argued as an act of defence in a tight space. These two, however, would be difficult to explain as anything other than murder.

No matter the moonshadow's relationship to Callum, as a General, she knew too well that the elf was going to be facing execution for this. It did not bother her any, but she knew the Princes were going to be devastated. She briefly hoped that she was not going to be asked to be the one to carry out the deed. She would do it, of course. Yet, she doubted the boys would ever forgive her if she did.

\--

It was her.

Viren would have fallen to his knees in grief, but all he could do was cry. He was propped on a stood so he could be by his daughter's side. His remaining fingers tucked some of the hair the wind had blown across her face to behind her ear. He had to chock back another sob when all he felt was cold skin. She looked so pale, yet so peaceful. He could not even tell what had caused her death.

Across from him, Soren looked on. He was happy to see his father alive, but he had not been expecting the lack of limps. The doctor's had needed his consent to preform amputations on the frost destroyed parts. He knew what that meant, but he had not considered... Did they really have to take so much of his dad? His ashen features were not helping. Had the ice really left him so... grey?

Lord Viren suddenly looked up at his son. “What happened?” he barked.

Soren visibly flinched at the tone. “She...” he had to clear his throat. “She fell out of some secret tunnel.”

“Where?” Viren continued to press with a snarl. His heart conflicted between getting the details he needed, and having mercy of his grieving son.

“Above the throne tower,” the blonde more easily answered. His eyes clouded over as he remembered being told his sister had fallen. He had handed off the elf prisoner without a second thought, and raced to the steps. A small crowd had formed. No one dared to move her as they awaited the doctor. All except him, that is.

Without a thought, he had fallen to her side. Ever so gently, he had cradled her head. He had intended to comfort her through the pain. It was not necessarily in the end; she had already been dead by the time he had arrived. He would forever remember the way her blood felt on his hands. The lingering nightmare of her scream even before he had learned it was hers.

Lord Viren's brow knitted as he looked down once more at his little girl. For a moment, he wondered how she could have fallen. She had had the primal stone last.

No. _Prince Callum_ had had it last. That boy... he had sided with the elves. He was the reason Viren was literally half in the grave. Now, Claudia was dead because she had attempted to navigate that blasted mage tunnel without the very tool she needed most to get through.

“They think she was push.” Soren's quiet words may as well been a scream from the mountain tops.

Viren's attention snapped back up to his son, “What?”

The young man could not meet his father's eyes, “Some of the other guards... This tracker guy went into the tunnel to find the Princes, and that elf girl. He found three dead soldiers, and he said... he said the place she fell from looked like she just... fell forward. And that someone else was there when it happened.”

Viren clung to his daughter's casket. His body trembled. The mournful tears in his eyes trickled into the creases of his tense facial muscles. His lips curled back into a hateful scowl. The darkest parts of his heart stirred, and filled his entire soul with its inky blackness. All thoughts of Prince Callum were shoved aside with the cold need for revenge.

“Who?” His tone as icy as his insides felt. Then, louder in a spur of rage. “Who did this?!”

Other mourning families keeping vigil looked over at his outburst. A few were angry with his interruption, but most just looked on with pity. Screw them, he thought. He did not need their pity! He needed revenge!

“I don't know,” Soren's voice was tight. He did not want to disappoint his father, but he simply did not have an answer. “The only other people that could get into the tunnel was the Princes, and the elf.”

Of course it came back to that mongrel, and his whore. Lord Viren knew exactly which one had done it. Claudia had dared to call the elf out on her ways. They would have kept arguing if he had not interrupted. Good thing to, as it seemed the beast would do anything to keep her claim on the Prince.

“Tell me that elf is dead,” Lord Viren growled.

The way Soren recoiled, he already knew the answer. “We haven't found her, yet.”

“They _why_ are you not out there hunting it down?” Viren pointed off in the distance as he seethed.

“But Dad...”

But his father cut him off, “Every moment you waste here, Claudia's murder is that much closer to making it back to Xadia. She will never see justice once she is with her own kind!”

“Lord Viren, that is quit enough!” Opeli's stern voice carried over the crowd as she marched towards them. “Can't you see that your _son_ is mourning the loss of his _sister_?!”

“This does not concern you, Opeli,” he lowly sneered. Her presence did remind him that he had an image to maintain. Thus, he forced himself to sit straighter, and even out the enraged lines in his features.

“You are disrupting the sacred Night Vigil that these families deserve. Yours included,” she motioned towards Soren to make her point. She took a deep, calming breath, and then spoke more kindly, “I understand everyone grieves in their own way. But yelling at Soren for things out of his control is not going to easy your pain.”

“What do you know of my pain?” He stubbornly retaliated. “You've never had a child.”

Opeli folded her hands together as she could only look on with sympathy for the man. He was not the first, nor the last, person in her career as a cleric to lash out at her. “Just because I don't know the grief of loosing a child, personally, doesn't mean I don't understand what you are feeling, Viren. Claudia was a beloved, young woman. In her life, she touched the hearts of many, and she will be deeply missed by all those that knew her.”

He hated the fact Opeli had said Claudia _was_ a beloved, young woman. How dare she talk about his daughter in past tense. It brought his earlier plans to the forefront of his mind. “This Vigil ends here. Have Claudia's body brought to my study.”

There were gasps and whispers. Opeli's jaw dropped open, “You would damn your daughter's soul-”

“I'm saving her soul!” he snapped. The pair locked into an unspoken war between their gazes.

Soren could not gauge what his father had in mind. He wanted to trust him, but interrupting Claudia's Vigil could leave her unable to cross over into the land of the dead. She could be lost on this plane of existence. It seemed he had more tears as he imagined his sister in pain; doomed to never be able to rest. “Dad?”

The sound of his son's pitiful voice knocked at the door of Lord Viren's heart. His love for Soren sparked enough to turn his next words genuinely reassuring, and his eyes caring, “It's alright, son. The way she died... I have a way to bring her back.”

Despite the gentleness, Soren reeled back as if a spear had been thrown through his middle. He knew his father intended to use his dark magic. He may not know a lot about the craft, but he knew enough to know it would come at a heavy price. This... this was not right...

“Do not do this,” Opeli warned with a knife's edge in her voice. “This goes beyond breaking the laws of nature. The paragon will not take such blasphemy lightly.”

“Let the powers that be punish me as they see fit. My daughter _will_ live,” Lord Viren coolly retorted. He gave a look that he would not be argued with.

The soft blue of her eyes looked to Claudia's slumbering face. She was trying to convey an apology to the poor child's soul. She could only hope that the girl would somehow still find her way to the place of peace. Then, she glared at Viren, “If you want her moved, it will be up to you to do so. My clerics and I will have nothing to do with defiling this poor girl.”

Her piece said, Opeli spun on her heel to leave. She did give Soren a sorrowful look, and a squeeze on his shoulder before leaving. Her feet carried her away from the Valley entirely with the intent to find King Harrow. If anyone was going to get Lord Viren to see reason, it would be him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang writing this chapter had taken a toll. Way too many painful feels happening.  
> And Viren, stop complaining about missing your limbs. The other two trapped in ice died!  
> Poor Soren. He needs as many hugs as possible.  
> As always, thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed! And I look forward to your feedback/comments :)


	18. Understandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a HUGE thank you. Especially to those that have consistently commented with each new chapter. I would do a shout out list, but I don't want to accidentally forget anyone. You guys know who you are, and I truly appreciate your continued comments, and support. I am humbled by how wonderful you all are <3

The little crew had long since by passed Callum's fog spell. With nothing but forest on either side, there had not been any need for him to cast it, again. It might be better that they could all see again, but that also meant Rayla was face to face with water just threatening to lap at her feet. Her stomach flopped. Trying to chase the feeling down, she nuzzled her face into Callum's scarf. Her arms momentarily tightened around him.

As with the rest of the trip, he did not make a peep in regards to her still holding onto him. With her worst fear trying to make her heave, and his steady frame anchoring her, she was not going to bring attention to it either.

“The river isn't as strong here. Do you think we can swim to the shore now?” Ezran asked while trying to shift in place. At one point, Callum had had Rayla pull the cloak from his pack to slide beneath them. It had helped separate them from some of the cold's effect for a good ten minutes. Then it too soaked through, and they were all seated on frigid dampness, again.

By this point, it had become so uncomfortable that even Rayla was welcome to the idea of a swim. She eyed the distance between their raft, and the nearest shore. If the Princes jumped in, she might be able to get herself in a position to jump. It was too far to completely make it to land, but if she could pull it off, it would get her close enough that she would spend seconds in the river.

“Actually, if we wait just a couple more minutes, we should reach the Banther Lodge,” Callum was not fairing any better, but the promise of a fire and a warm bed kept him seated.

Rayla lifted her head, and sarcasm easily slipped from her tongue, “Oh sure. Ah'm sure it won' be crawling with humans.”

He glanced over his shoulder, “Well, usually it's not because it's the winter lodge. But King Harrow did say that our Aunt Amaya is supposed to meet us there. I'm sure he would have wrote to her by now to let her know you're with us.”

“Aunt Amaya is going to be there?” Ezran visibly perked up. “We haven't seen her since last fall. I wonder if she has my birthday present with her?”

“Is yer birthday comin' up?” Rayla rose an eyebrow. For some reason, the topic of Ezran's birthday did not settle well inside her.

Or it was her sea sickness, again. Yep... it was the sea sickness. This time she untangle one arm from around Callum to hold her fist to her mouth. Maybe it was a good thing they had not eaten today. She was sure it would have come up by now.

The younger Prince leaned so he could properly twist and look back at her, “No. It was in March.” Then he noticed how pale she was. “Are you _sure_ you're okay?”

“Ah'm fine,” she half-groaned. Then, putting on an- albeit sickly- smile, she covered, “Ah guess this means Ah owe y'u a birthday present, too.”

“Really?” his eyes sparkled. Then he back pedalled a bit. “You don't have to. We didn't know each other back then.”

A sweet look shone in her eyes, “It's close enough. Ah'm sure we can find y'u somethin' when we get ta Xadia.”

“You really mean it?” Ezran was almost bouncing in place.

Rayla chuckled at his infectious excitement. She leaned around Callum so that she could ruffle the younger Prince's hair. “Yeah. Y'u like animals, right? Ah know an elf back home...” But then she trailed off. Her hand feel away, and her eyes became sorrowful.

That's right... She did not have a home to go back to anymore. Her chest felt tight. Verrago's voice ringing out 'traitor' echoed in her thoughts. It was easy to consider what she was doing in the heat of the moment, because she knew it was right. Now that things were calmer, she had time to let things sink in; everything Runaan had told her she would be sacrificing. Her friends, her people, all the places that she had grown up knowing... she would never get the chance to return to all of that.

Ethari! She had had the chance to say goodbye to Runaan face to face, but Ethari... He was going to be heartbroken. The last thing he had said to her was, “Ah'll see y'u when y'u get home.” She had not even hugged him as normal because she was trying to look cool and collected in front of the other assassins. What would he think of her choice?

Unexpectedly, a gloved hand gently clasped over the hand still around Callum. She met the older Prince's brilliant green eyes. He was looking at her with such understanding; a mix of guilt and gratitude.

“I never did thank you for everything you've done for us,” his voice was tender.

She let her own thanks shine, “It's like y'u said, we look out for one another.”

They continued to look at one another. Each trying to say so much with just their eyes.

How grateful they were to each other...

A silent promise to watch each others backs...

Even sharing in Rayla's pain about loosing her home.

From atop Ezran's back pack, Bait croaked as he turned pink. The younger Prince began to snicker. The two teens turned matching curious looks at him.

“What?” Callum inquired completely confused.

“Nothing,” his brother grinned. “It just looks like you guys are going to almost attack each other, again.”

Rayla furrowed her brow in thought. Callum had never tried to attack her. Plus, the only time she tried to attack him was when they first met... Oh. _Oh_! Why that cheeky little...

Unbidden, her mind travelled back to the storage closet. The two of them shoved in close to one another. The feel of his hot breath while she watched his eyes longingly look at her lips. How it had caused her insides to flutter as she started to consider leaning in. At least, before the door was opened, and their hiding spot discovered.

She ducked and covered her face to hide the wide blush.

Callum had also caught on to what his brother was implying, “Ez! Seriously?! It's not like that. We're not... Rayla's just a friend!”

“Then why do you guys keep making googly eyes at each other?” Oh, he was good at playing the 'innocent child' look. Only the slight quirk of a smile gave him away.

“Ugh! This is wha' we get for leavin' him with Tam,” Rayla grumbled. Then she mock glared at him. “If Ah hear one rude word out o' yer mouth, Ah'm makin' y'u eat soap.”

Ezran scrunched his nose; soap did not sound like an appetizing thing to eat. Not even on an empty stomach. “I won't. I promise.”

“Good,” she felt rather satisfied in ensuring her band mate had not completely corrupted the child. Then, her eyes glanced up. Excitement bubble upon seeing a human lodge, and a stone bridge. “Is tha' yer lodge?”

Turning his head forward, Callum brightened, “Yep! This is the place.” He then noticed that it was dark. No flickering candles, or torches. No smoke rising from the chimney. It _was_ late, but there should at least be some soldiers patrolling the grounds. Plus, if he knew his Aunt Amaya- which he did- she would have them searching the whole surrounding area for him and Ez before anyone would be allowed to sleep. “Huh. That's weird. Looks like no one's here.”

“Maybe Aunt Amaya got held up,” Ezran offered. It would not be the first time there was trouble at the breech that would delay her by a day or two. Usually, if it was longer than that, she would send a letter to let them know.

“Well, one way to find out. Ready?” Callum wiggled in attempt to get one leg over the ice seat. Evidently, that would not be possible wedged between the other two.

As he moved, however, Rayla instantly let go of him, and moved back as much as she could.

“On three?” Ezran chirped.

“One...” Was Callum's answer.

Ezran braced himself with glee in his eyes.

“Two...” Since he could not get his leg over, Callum twisted so that he could let himself fall backwards into the water.

Neither Prince noticed their third party looking at the pair like they were crazy. Her fingers grasped tightly to the cloak.

“Three!” the combined shout of the boys was quickly followed by a pair of splashes.

Rayla cringed away from the resulting spray. Her heart pounding in her ears. Her fear spiked the moment she realized that she was sinking. Of course, she had moved too far back on the berg. Her weight would not be enough to completely topple the make-shift boat, but she was too terrified to think about that. Not when she could feel herself slipping backwards.

She screamed as she clung for anything to move herself forward enough to balance the raft. All this did was bunch up the cloak. Desperate, she lunged for one of the side spike to grab. The motion caused the front of the berg to heavily splash back down. With nothing but slippery ice to hold onto, Rayla was horrified to discover she was being bucked off into the water.

Pure instinct took hold. She found her way to the surface, and thrashed to make it to land as soon as possible. Thankfully, Ezran had been right. This part of the river had a lulled current, and the trio made it to shore.

“Wow that was cold!” Callum joyfully proclaimed.

Ezran shivered beside him, but his attention was on a certain glow toad that had decided to stay in the water. “Bait, come on. Do your froggie paddle.” He swayed his hands in demonstration.

Bait considered it a moment, but then did as he was told. The young Prince helped his pet onto land.

Rayla was not sure if her shaking was from cold or adrenaline. Either way, she wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. “Great. Now we're cold, hungry, _and_ wet. This lodge better be worth it.”

She did not wait for them to agree. She did miss the boys exchanging a look. Callum giving a small shrug, and then they followed. Her hands went up to wring out her hair as she walked. In the next second, her blades were draw at the sound of a loud noise. Ezran gave a small squeak as he and his brother froze in place.

They all breathed out a sigh of relief when they realized it was just their ice boat scrapping along the underside of the bridge as it got stuck in one of the smaller holes.

Callum's face turned from relieved to sullen, “Oh man, we forgot to make snow cones.”

She gazed at him trying to figure out if he was serious or not. His eyes truly were sad, and he bore a small pout. Beside him, Ezran also frowned. The reminder of food making the little guy's gut gurgle.

She threw her head back as she groaned, “Ah'll go get us some ice.”

She did not look back as she marched for the giant block; snagging a wooden water bucket on her way.

“Really? I mean, thank you! We'll go find some bowls,” Callum called after her.

“And toppings!” Ezran enthusiastically added. The pair scurried off to get the lodge key from its hiding place in the stable. Then, with just as much excitement, raced for the front door.

\--

Runaan was looking at the body laid out in front of his cell, but his thoughts were far away. He half-listened to the guards' commotion as they checked for whatever had made Seumas fall as he had. Something about a rock, and a letter. Then a guard hurried off to give said letter to the King.

Unease filled the assassin upon realizing that letter was likely the ransom note for the Prince.

He bowed his head in regret; this was his fault. He had lead them into a farce fight to give Rayla and Tam time to get the Princes out of the castle. He had given the order to the other three that, should they cross paths with Rayla or Tam in front of humans, they were to pretend the two were traitors; by the human definition of the word, anyway. He had explained that it would make the humans more trusting of Tam. Which was true, but he also was secretly trying to give the humans reason to keep them from turning on Rayla too soon, as well. Though, had it been necessary? Seumas had been right, favoured of the Sky and Moon always found their way to one another. All those months ago, when Rayla would disappear... that much time together would have bound their fates. There might very well be the first known halfling child in over a millennia on its way.

No. He would not tarnish Rayla's reputation by even entertaining the notion. The powers that be might draw them together, but Rayla was a responsible girl. She would not even chance things happening during that window before both of the half-moons.

All of that did not matter, now. Seumas had followed his orders. He had chased after Rayla and the Prince despite it placing him in a position he could not retreat from.

There was a small mercy that he had slipped away so quickly. The humans guarding them had not even had the time to unlock his cell before he was dead. Killed by the very message meant to save his band members' lives. The Maiden could not be any more clear with her own message.

He was drawn back from his musing by the soldiers preparing to move Seumas' body. He stood, realizing he had completely forgotten to give his old friend his passing rite. “One moment,” his parched throat was unable to hide the small plea.

One human huffed, and continued what she was doing. The second, however, stilled the hands of the first. She gave him a stern look, but he did not back down. When she rolled her eyes and backed off, the male soldier turned to face Runaan.

He recognized the man immediately. Naturally, it had to be the scout Rayla had spared. The Maiden quite enjoyed poetic justice, didn't she?

The human gave a go ahead nod, also stepped back from the body, and then stood at attention. Runaan gave an equally firm nod as a thank you. He moved as close to the bars as his chain would let him. Now that he was closer, he could see the angry sore around Seumas' neck, and the bruising on the tender spot of his temple. His guilt only grew worse at the sight. It was years of training, and experience that allowed him to remain outwardly stoic.

“Mother Moon, please welcome your child, Seumas of the moonshadow elves. Survived by his father, Dand. His wife, Catriona. And his children, Fin, Peigi, and one yet to be born. Let his sins in life be forgive. And may he walk in your light beside your Maiden, as a keeper of your decree.”

Finished the rite, Runaan raised his hand. His fingers were closed so that only his thumb touched the centre of his forehead. Closing his eyes, he gently bowed his head. Finally, he lead a slow trail with his thumb down to the tip of his nose. “Goodbye, Seumas.”

When he opened his eyes once more, he realized it was not just the two guards any longer. He met the King's unreadable look. Honestly, Runaan did not want to deal with the man so soon after Seumas' final rite. Sadly, he knew that this was part of his own punishment. Thus, he simply waited.

“Is there a specific way his body is to be prepared?” the King's voice was soft, yet firm. He might even dare to say the man was being understanding.

Runaan glowered, “Does it matter?”

But the King was not bother by the retort, “In Katolis, we respect a fallen enemy the same as we respect our own people. Normally, he would be given a Night Vigil by one of our clerics before being burned at sunrise. But if we know and can preform a funeral according to his heritage, we will give him that respect.”

The two became locked in another stare down. Runaan was too drained to war with himself on if it was genuine or not. “True funerals are held by one's surviving kin,” he sighed. “However, rarely do the bodies of fallen assassins get returned to their families. Therefore, the highest ranking Guild member available delivers the fallen's final rite, and then he is granted the Last Salute. Both of which I have just done. What happens to his body beyond that is to your discretion.”

The King nodded as he looked down at Seumas, “Then I will see to it whoever tends to his remains knows the salute to give him before we set his pyre.”

Everything in the man's stance and voice appeared genuine. In his grief, Runaan decided he would, this once, believe the human was not simply playing some sort of trick. “Thank you.”

King Harrow graciously bowed his head to acknowledge the thanks. Then, he looked towards the soldiers. “You may bring him to the temple for preparation, now.”

The soldiers did as asked. Whether it was the King's presence, or something else, the female soldier was more subdued. King and elf waited in silence as Seumas was moved out of the prisons. Then Harrow turned to Runaan. They considered one another for a moment.

Holding up the letter, King Harrow spoke first, “I suppose this can wait until morning.”

Runaan did not respond.

With nothing more to say, the King turned to leave. Once more, Runaan was left alone to his thoughts. His mind was haunted by the mournful faces of Seumas' family. Then, for a moment, the image changed to Ethari. No doubt he would be anxiously watching those two metal flowers. He knew his husband would be shattered the moment his flower sank. His own heart crumbled at the mere thought of his beloved being left distraught. The smith would not even have Rayla to help him move forward. Ethari did not know it yet, but he had lost both of them.

Laying down with his back to the cell bars, the mixture of grief, guilt, and starvation cast him into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Rayllum goodness for you guys (boy was that fun to write) <3  
> And, the gesture Runaan had made way back in chapter 6 is finally revealed! Please don't kill me...  
> As always, thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed, I look forward to your comments, and I will see you next Thursday :D


	19. Tinder Moments

Callum was quiet proud of himself. He and Ezran had discovered bread, a half-eaten jar of jam, and a sealed jar of peaches. Then, he had sent his brother off to fetch them all some dry clothes while he set to work on building a fire in the main room fireplace. It had only taken him two trips to actually get enough wood from the shack by the stables. It was nice to feel strong by being able to lift three logs at a time. He had even remembered to make sure they were dry instead of the ones that had been poured on the other night.

Each trip outside, he also checked in on Rayla's progress. She was clearly trying to stay on the bridge while cutting ice. It made her job way more complicated than need be, he thought. When he realized the alternative was her wading waist deep into the river, it finally clicked; she was afraid of water. He wisely decided to not say anything about it while she had her swords in hand.

With his firewood collected, he had set to work making the perfect tent shape; just like he had watched the servants do through the years. Excitement bubble in him when he grabbed the flint stones from the mantel. It made him feel incredibly adult to be making a fire by himself. He clicked the stones together. The first strike sent teeny, tiny sparks that were out before they hit the wood. He moved in closer, and struck harder. He was satisfied to see a larger spray this time. Little red flickers embedded themselves into the log creases... and then went out. He was not discouraged, yet. Even the servants in the castle would sometimes need to hit the flint more than once.

After about the sixth time, though, he was pretty sure he was doing something wrong.

By then, Rayla had come inside, “If this isn' enough ice, one o' y'u is goin' ta get more.”

He turned around the see her stash. The whole water bucket was filled, and then some. “Wow. I don't think we're going to need anymore ice than that. It's just the three of us.”

There was a disgruntled croak from the couch. Bait glowed a deep red as he glared from where he laid.

“Four of us,” Callum corrected himself.

“Ah don' know if this wee juice thief should be allowed a snow cone,” Rayla teased as she settled at the other end of the couch.

The glow toad grumbled as his skin became a brighter red. The look he gave might have been considered intimidating; if you were a grub. For the pair of teens, it was worth a small laugh.

“Don' worry. There's plenty for everyone,” Rayla assured the grumpy creature.

He continued to grumble, but at least he returned to his normal yellow. He also made a point of spinning in place so that his butt faced them instead.

Grabbing a handful of ice, Rayla set it to her shoulder. She mildly winced, but forced herself back to calm.

Callum frowned, “Did your shoulder come out, again?”

She seemed put off by his asking, but after looking into his concerned gaze, relented, “No. But it is swelling from before.” She shrugged with her left side, “Don' worry. A bit o' ice, and a good night's sleep, and Ah'll be good as new.”

He was not a doctor, but he did not believe her. “Well, Tam did suggest putting it in a sling. Maybe that will help, too.”

She shook her head, “Ah can' do a proper sling on mahself.”

“But I can help,” he set the flint aside, and got to his feet. “Just tell me what to do, and I can do it.”

Rayla seemed to grow uncomfortable, “Tha's sweet. But y'u really do need ta have experience with puttin' on a sling. Otherwise, it'll rest wrong, and either no' work, or make thin's worse.”

“Oh.” That was a fair point. Still, it was one more way he felt useless.

She did not like the disheartened look in his eyes. Her own became tender, “ _But_ y'u could ask Ezran if y'u could practice on him for a bit.”

“Practice what on me?” Ezran called from the door of the bedroom he had just exited.

He hurried down the stairs with cargo in arms. He had turned a quilt into a makeshift sack to carry on his back. At some point, the young prince had also changed into a warm, dry pair of winter pajamas.

“Putting someone's arm in a sling,” Callum answered. “What did you find?”

Ezran happily set down his haul. While sorting through, he proudly explained each item, “Some pjs and socks for you guys. Some towels. A couple of toys. One of those healer kits for you guys' cuts, and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, that one's really smart,” Callum complemented. The truth was that his ear had become such a constant dull ache that he easily forgot about it.

Ezran beamed even more with the praise. He picked up some papers tide together with string, and held it out to Rayla, “And this is the picture book Callum drew for me about the Brave Little Glow Toad.”

“Wait! Don't look at that,” Callum made to scoop the booklet away.

But, of course, Rayla was faster. He could only sit back blushing as she looked over the crudely drawn glow toad on the front. She smiled, “It's cute.”

“It's horrible,” Callum whined.

Ezran firmly shook his head, “No it's not. I love your picture books.”

“Yeah it is. I drew it when I was, like, nine,” he continued to grumble.

“So?”

“So, it's embarrassing,” he wildly waved his arms.

Rayla's curious inquiry interrupted them, “Y'u drew this when y'u were nine?”

Misunderstanding her tone, Callum's demeanour deflated more, “Yeah, I know. It's pretty bad. But I've gotten way better since. I swear.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him completely astonished. “Are y'u kiddin'? Ah can' even draw this good now.” She motioned to the cover. “I mean, yeah, Ah've seen better drawings. Bu' no' from a nine-year-old. And ye're sayin' y'u can do even better now?”

He scratched the back of his head, and shuffled his feet, “Well... I mean. Sort of. I guess?”

“He's really good,” Ezran insisted. “The other night, when it was storming really bad, he drew a picture of a dragon breathing fire on a marshmallow man. It looks so real, you'd think the dragon was going to jump off the paper and eat the marshmallow man.”

Rayla turned her inquisitive eyes from little brother to older, “Do y'u have tha' picture with y'u?”

There was a touch of hopefulness, and a slight bit of an unspoken request to see it.

Now he wished he had grabbed it, “Uh, no. I left it on my drawing desk in our room.”

She looked a little disappointed, but it was quickly covered with a smile. “Tha's okay. Maybe y'u can show it ta me after we return the egg.”

His heart gave a thump. “Really? I mean, yeah, sure.”

“Tha' settles it, then,” her eyes sparkling.

“You guys are making that 'want to attack each other' face, again,” Ezran deadpanned with mild annoyance.

Both teens flushed scarlet as they promptly looked away from one another.

Callum's focus zeroed in on his brother, “Ez, don't say it like that. People will think you mean something other than wanting to kiss.”

Bait, who had turned back around upon Ezran's arrival, gave a short croak. The younger Prince reached out to pet him while smiling up at his brother. “Soooo, you _do_ want to kiss each other?”

Callum sputtered as he tried to not look at Rayla, “That's not what I said!”

Rayla jumped up from the couch. She shook the leftover ice from her fingers to melt among the puddles on the floor. “Ah should go get changed.”

“Good idea!” Callum happily agreed. “You do that, and I'll, uh... go back to getting the fire lit!”

“Good,” she answered just as jittery. She then looked at the pair of pajamas. “So, which set is mine?”

Ezran grabbed the soft lilac pair, and offered it to her, “Here you go.”

Rayla accepted with a small thanks, and then hurried off to one of the back rooms.

Shrugging off the chaos he had caused, Ezran held up the large blanket that had been stuffed inside the quilt. “I thought we could make a castle. You know, like we do in the winter.”

“We have comfortable beds to sleep in, and you want to sleep on the floor?” He starred down with disbelief.

“Please?” He had not needed to say anything. They both knew Callum was done for under Ezran's well-practised puppy eyes.

Callum sighed, “Go get more blankets, and I'll start getting the chairs.”

Ezran threw his hands in the air and cheered.

By the time Rayla came back, they had already erected the roof over the couch and some chairs. Her wet clothing was balled up in her hands, and her closed swords tucked under her arm. “Wha' are y'u doin'?”

Callum's head popped up from the opposite side of the blankets. He had meant to answer her, but his jaw hit the floor, instead. A tiny touch of pink coloured his cheeks. In the back of his mind, he realized she was wearing Claudia's winter pjs... and they fit her near perfectly.

True, she had curled up the bottom of the pant legs to adapt to the height difference. There was a mild strain in the second and third buttons of the shirt, but not enough for skin to show through. Otherwise, it held her frame in way that made her look soft. There was no better word for it. Gentle features, and the fabric hinting at her curves without being body tight... yep, soft was the word for it.

Thankfully, it was Ezran to the rescue. He pushed up the one side of the 'roof' that draped along the side to peek out at her, “We're making a blanket castle. I get the middle!”

Her mouth fell open to speak, but no words came out. After a moment, she smiled, and shook her head in the universal 'I can't believe how ridiculous they are being' way. Then she glanced at the fireplace. “Ah thought y'u were makin' a fire?”

Callum snapped out of his daze, “I was. But, well... who can say no to that face?”

As if to prove his point, Ezran looked up with the cutest, sweetest, and most innocent look he had in his arsenal.

Rayla laughed, “Tha' _is_ pretty impossible.” She went to set her clothes besides their packs next to the fireplace. “Is tha' how ye're goin' to convince people no' ta argue with y'u when y'u become King?”

The boy grinned ear to ear, “You bet!”

“Shhhh. Don't give him ideas!” Callum fake whispered. “Next thing you know, he's going to make eating jelly tarts for breakfast into a law.”

“Wha' are jelly tarts?” she naively asked.

Ezran's entire demeanour changed. Looking at him now, one might think Rayla had insulted his mother. Which, given the late Queen's love of the sweets, she may have. “You've _never_ had a jelly tart?”

She leaned away from him like one would a growling dog, “Er... No.”

He disappeared beneath the fort, and then popped up beside his brother, “Callum. We have to send a letter to Dad to have the baker make us some.”

Callum, for his part, hid the majority of his exasperation, “Ez, it's almost bedtime. Even if we had a messenger crow, you know you get nightmares when you eat too many sweets before bed.”

Ezran pouted, “But I feel bad. I shared the ones I had with Tam, and I didn't even think to save some for Rayla.”

“It's okay, Ezran. Ah can try them the same time Ah go ta see Callum's dragon picture,” she gently encouraged. When that did not seem to make things better, she added, “Besides, Tam loves sweet foods. Ye're probably his best friend in the whole world, now.”

He hummed thoughtfully, “I don't know. Maybe.”

\--

“Stay in the fockin' cave,” Tam growled. He was exhausted, his leg had a nasty slash in it, and- when he _finally_ was able to find, and make it back into the hidden cave- the kids were gone.

He paced back and forth on the ledge. His hands clenched and unclenched with the need to throw something. “Ah'll kill 'em. Ah swear by the moon's glory, once Ah find those wee bastarts, Ah will fockin' kill the lot o' 'em.”

In his furry, he completely over looked the slight glisten coming off the broken bottle of glass from Callum's dropped bath bottles. Not until a particularly jagged piece cut through his shoe, and jammed into his heel. It should go without saying by this point that Tam- being Tam- had a rather explosive verbal response.

The exact wording, however, shall not be written, because that would be an entire chapter in and of itself.

\--

The kids finished putting together their blanket castle. Yes, that 'begrudgingly' included Rayla. The Princes, of course, made things more complicated by suggesting they move a couple mattresses from upstairs to make the floor more comfortable. And what better way to do that then by riding down on top of it like a sled?

Turns out, there are a lot of better ways to do so. For, as anyone who has tried to ride anything down a set of stairs could have told them, the edge of the mattress caught the lip of one of the middle steps, and sent them flying. Once it was assured they would be fine, both boys were promptly ordered to go make dinner while Rayla took care of the last mattress.

With their bed for the night prepared, Callum did finally change into his pajamas. Only to discover he had outgrown them since the winter. The shirt was a lost cause, but it would be warm enough by the fire to not actually need one. Fortunately, the pants fit. He was just showing a lot more bare leg than was proper for a Katolis royal. Thankfully, he thought, Rayla was not from Katolis, and Ezran was not going to bother him about it.

He really should have remembered the double side to that thought.

More than ready to join the other two, he was only half way down the stairs when there was a surprised scream.

He froze, “What? What's wrong?”

His eyes nervously searched out possible danger. All he found was that Rayla was shielding her eyes... from him?

“Why are y'u naked?!” her voice cracked with embarrassment.

Callum blushed and looked down. He calmed upon seeing that he had, in fact, remembered to do up the button of his pants. Asides from that, he had no idea what she was talking about.

Just as confused, Ezran quipped, “He's wearing pants.”

From behind her hands, she glared at the young boy, “Ah saw tha'. Ah'm talkin' abou' his chest!”

The older boy looked at himself, again. This time, he took in the pale complexion of his torso. He did not see anything wrong. In fact, he was proud to say he even had a whole three chest hairs. “My chest?”

“Yes!” she hissed. Her portion of food forgotten, she spun in place until her back was to him. Her hands still acting as blinders. “Y'u never show yer chest in public. It's just wrong!”

“Oh~ This is a moonshadow elf thing,” Callum concluded.

She dared a wide eyed look towards him. Her face lite up brighter, and she snapped back to covering her eyes. “Are y'u serious? Do humans just walk around with their chests out?”

The brothers exchanged a look of disbelief. “Yes,” they answered.

“Mostly guys, though,” Callum elaborated. “Girls do too. It's just they usually wear something to keep their breasts out of the way. And, because, y'know, there are some people that like looking at women's chests.”

“Sweet, lovin' Primals.” Rayla shrank into herself further. Then, in a fluster roar, she added, “Well, Ah don' want ta see yers. So, go put a shirt on!”

“Okay, okay,” he hurried back upstairs.

Her relieved sigh of, “merciful moon” followed after him.

The same problem persisted with the rest of his winter clothing. It took some internal debating before he finally snooped through his Dad's things. Donning one of King Harrow's vibrant red tops that was a size and a half too large for him, Callum returned to their fabric fortress. After that, however, dinner was a silent, awkward affair. They enjoyed a cold meal of jam on stale bread, and peaches over ice chunks. It was not ideal, but to starving stomachs, it was divine. With some semblance of food in their bellies, next was getting the fire lit.

Already uneasy from the shirt incident, Callum was acutely aware of Rayla watching him each time he clicked the flint stones together.

By the second try, Rayla correctly guessed, “Y'u've never made a fire before, have y'u?”

He shook his head as his shoulders slumped in defeat, “No...When you're a Prince, a lot of people tend to do stuff for you.”

Rayla scrunched her nose, “Tha' sounds super annoyin'.”

From where he was playing with Bait inside the blanket tent, Ezran pipped up, “For some things, it's nice. I don't have to wash my own clothes, or make my bed. But when they serve my food for me, that's annoying.”

“You only say that because you don't like vegetables,” Callum countered. Then, he smirked towards Rayla, “If the cooks didn't make his plate for him, he'd probably only eat some bread, and then lots of dessert.”

She peered around the corner to look Ezran in the eye, “Well, enjoy yer stale human bread, because we won' find anythin' but wild berries, roots, and herbs from here ta Xadia.”

Ezran playfully pulled a half eaten loaf as if to protect it from her. They both snickered at his action.

“So, how do you make a fire?” Callum hated that he had to ask, but it was the only way he was going to learn.

Taking in his defeated look, she stilled any comment regarding her doing it for them. “Well... y'u already have the outside ready. So, now, y'u just need ta get some kindling and tinder for the inside.”

It was amazing how quickly he could change from discouraged to inquisitive. His attention fully on her. “Okay. What are those?”

By then, Ezran had crawled forward, and pulled back the curtain to listen in on the lesson.

Amusement tinged their new friend's face as she explained. Kindling was smaller chunks of wood that burned faster than logs, but slower than tinder. As for tinder, it was whatever one had that easily caught fire; dried leaves, dead grass, etc.

“You mean like the little candle things in that chest over there?” Ezran pointed to a box near the door.

Callum got up to open the lid. It was mostly filled with various small branches and wood chips. In the last eighth - separated from the rest by a board- was two neat rows of stacked candles. Though something about them seemed strange. Lifting one, he inspected it. He realized that it looked like most of it was made of sawdust, and lint. The wax merely acted as a binding agent for the mass of little particles.

“Huh.”

Rayla's fascinated hum over his shoulder nearly had Callum launching himself in the air. As it was, he fumbled and dropped the tinder candle he was holding. Before he could blink, a four fingered hand had snatched it mid-fall. She smirked as she silently offered it out to him.

“Thanks,” he lamely responded as he accepted it back.

Grabbing a different one for herself, she also studied the little fire starter. “These are actually a great idea. Tinder by itself sometimes burns too fast for the kindlin' ta catch. Ah bet even a child could get a fire started with one o' these.”

“Then we should take some with us,” he eagerly stacked several into his arms.

Rayla nodded thoughtfully, “We'll need another pack, though. Ezran's is full, and yers has tha' hole in it.”

“We can ask Aunt Amaya if she has another bag when she gets here, tomorrow,” Callum carried his haul over to their current bags. Well, to his bag. It looked like Ezran had decided to move his to the couch inside their tent.

Rayla grabbed some kindling, “Tha' reminds me. How long were y'u plannin' on us staying here?”

He thought about it a moment, and then shrugged. “I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it until now. I guess a couple of days.”

But she gave a firm shake of her head as she set the kindling in front of the fireplace. “If we're goin' ta stop the war, we need ta get the egg o' the Dragon Prince back home ta his mother as soon as possible. We should leave by mornin'.”

“But we need to give Tam time to catch up,” Ezran countered. His baby blues were wide in a plea to give the other elf time to find them.

A sad look filled Rayla's eyes, “Ez. Tam doesn' know where we are. He doesn' have any way ta find us.”

His lip curled in a small pout, “Can't we still wait for him? I know he's kind of mean to me and Callum, but he did teach me about Westies, Silvers, and Middies.” Rayla huffed a light laugh at that. “Oh! And how to hold a knife so I don't hurt someone.”

“He did what?!” the older Prince's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

Rayla was equally surprised, but for a completely different reason, “he let y'u hold one o' his knives?”

He happily nodded, “Yeah. He said to never give someone a blade with the pointy side out. And then showed me how to hold it so that I don't hurt myself giving someone a knife.”

While Callum grew more horrified by the explanation, Rayla was delighted. “Y'u see? Ah told y'u givin' him sweets would make y'u his best friend.”

“You mean he doesn't let people hold his knives?” His eyes sparkled as the importance of the gesture started to set in.

“Rarely. The magic pouch tha' makes them belonged ta his father. So, he's kind of possessive o' them,” she was happy to supply while she busied herself with tucking kindling inside the log pile. “Ah once saw him get in a fight with Lucca because he used one ta chop vegetables without askin' first.” She giggled a little as she gained a far away look. “Verrago had ta convince him no' ta challenge him ta a duel. O' course, she had a few things ta say ta Lucca, after.”

Callum watched her work. Twice she fiddled with a piece of kindling while she spoke. A new wave of guilt weighed in on him. “They sound like really good friends of yours.”

“They are,” she smiled. “An assassin band is a bit like another family. When a new member joins, we go on a pretend mission for two months. It's a sort o' rite of passage, y'u know? It helps us get closer, and we learn how ta read each others' fighting styles as practice for a real mission.” She finished with an extended hand towards Callum.

He looked at her hand, trying to think of which gesture this was supposed to be. It was not a fist, so she was not about to promise something. She did not look like she wanted to lead him somewhere either. Maybe she was just looking for comfort?

Deciding on the latter, he shimmied closer so that he could hold her hand. Her fingers were still a few degrees colder than his own. He wondered if that was an elf thing, or just Rayla. Remembering there was an chapter in the encyclopedia called 'anatomy', he supposed he could look it up later.

Callum then followed up with a warm smile. One that said he promised to be there for her as much as he could. He watched how her ears gave a cute, little twitch. Her body tensed up, and she gazed into his eyes with pure surprise. A second later, she crumbled into a fit of light laughter; leaving him dumbstruck on what he had done.

Seeing his confusion made her chock back some more laughter. She gave the hand a gentle squeeze, and then teasingly said, “Thanks. But do y'u mind passin' me some tinder?”

He looked back to where he had left the pile. He jolted as he realized she had not been trying to tell him some secret moonshadow thing. She was literally, wordlessly asking him to pass a candle.

“Oh. Right,” he bashfully drew his hand away. Then, he hurried to grab one, and passed it off to her.

Accepting the tinder still completely entertained, she also made a nod towards the rest, “Y'u might also want ta move those away from where there's goin' ta be a fire.”

“Yeah, that's a smart idea.” He did just that by shoving them into the spaces he could inside his bag. The he hefted the whole pack to place it with Ezran's. His younger brother curiously watching his every move.

“What?”

Ezran gave a small smile. Then, pretending to play with his wooden figures, answered, “Nothing.”

Callum half-pouted as he crawled back out of the tent. He was surprised to find that Rayla had not lit the fire. Instead, she was expectantly waiting for his return.

Seeing him, she playfully held up the flints, “Ready ta light yer first fire?”

He did not know where the feeling came from, but he became a little light-headed the longer he met her eyes. Clearing his throat, Callum happily accepted the offered stones with a, “Thank you.”

She instructed him how to strike the stones to better control the spark spray. Then, she directed him where to aim to ensure the candle wick caught. It took two strikes, and the candle was lit. In less than a minute, there was a soft glow combined with the occasional snap from the kindling catching. As warmth began to spread, Callum's spirit lifted. He was all too aware she was watching him. When he turned to meet her gaze, however, he noticed she was inspecting his ear.

He subconsciously raised his hand to the tender flesh. It felt like it had started bleeding again at some point because there was dried blood along the back where the previous had been washed away back in the cave pool. His own eyes moved to the cut above her eye. Although it looked better now than it had that morning, the skin around it was starting to change to an angry red.

A thought rushed forward. “So, about when we leave. How about we stay one day. It'll give us time to get bandaged up and healed. Plus, if Tam figures out to follow the river, or if Aunt Amaya is still on her way here, it'll give them time to catch up.”

Rayla considered his proposal a moment. Her eyes, however, we tracing out the handful of scratches over his face. Finally, she relented, “Fine. _One_ day. But we leave first thin' the followin' mornin'. No matter wha'.”

“Agreed!”

She got up, and pat his shoulder, “Good. Now let's get tha' ear o' yers patched up before it gets infected.”

He happily followed her into the blanket fort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! Honestly this chapter felt good to write. You can probably tell about where I started having the most fun with it. Still, I think we were all overdue for some fluffy goodness.  
> Hope you all enjoyed, and I'll be reading with you all again soon :)


	20. A Lucky Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It's my birthday, so you guys get a gift; an extra update! Hope you all enjoy :)

As it so happened, forcing one's self to focus on carefully removing a shard of glass from one's own heal was fairly calming. At least, it was for Tam. It did not stop the vulgar words streaming from his mouth when he dislodged the piece. Given his current situation, it still counted as 'calm' for him.

Movement across the river snagged his attention, once again. Even more humans were gathering on the bank. He watched a woman with a full-body shield on her back direct them in large patrol groups to comb up and down the river, and through the woods. Fock. He should have left those other two humans alone. Yeah, he had taken out a potential threat to their- well, his- cover, but leaving two dead this close to the hidden cave had been stupid. He may as well used their blood to write the message, 'elf nearby. Come find me!'

Verrago would have boxed his ears in for being so impulsive.

There were not any boats, though. So, he still felt secure behind the cave's illusion barrier. Which was good because he really needed some sleep. He had offered to take a couple hours watch over Verrago and Lucca to allow them some rest. It was his intention to use his own need for sleep as an excuse to keep Rayla and the Princes in the cave longer. Unfortunately, he had been slowed by patrols on the way back, and then that damned fog, and the human soldiers....

Shite. They got a boat.

Tam hurried to finish wrapping his foot with a bandage, and shoved on his shoe. With a deep breath, he dove into the pool, and swam as fast as his injures allowed. Upon surfacing near the waterfall, he discovered there were no caverns behind it as he had hoped there would be. There was, however, a tight crevice to the one side. He shimmied into it the best he could. It had just enough space to keep his nose out of the water with his horns uncomfortably pressed against the top. That did mean little waves were lapping at his chin and mouth.

Balancing on the boat, Corvus held his torch towards the rock-face. After looking over the battle scene, he confirmed the elven murder had dove back into the river. General Amaya had also shared her suspicions with him that something about the river did not look right to her. She advised him that she had originally intended to wait until there was daylight to have a look herself. He, naturally, offered to go, even in the dark. Up close to the spot she had indicated, he had to agree; something was about it was just off.

He motioned the rowers to move the boat closer to the stone wall. That was when he caught it. Even though the boat was disrupting the water's flow, that spot acted as though it was unaffected. The splashing and swirling remained the same.

The exact same, in fact.

He pointed to one of the oar, “Can I see that for a minute?”

The helpful fisherman that had lent his boat complied. Corvus passed his torch to the fisherman's husband. Then, carefully he moved to swing the paddle through the water as hard as possible. As intended, a great wave splashed towards the stone. Except it did not hit the rocks. Where he knew his splash shove have left droplets that the river could not reach, it was dry.

Further more, the splashing and swirling from before was still the same.

Corvus spared himself a proud smile as he handed back the oar. “It's an illusion.”

Then, he directed the boatmen forward while the other two soldiers on board prepared their weapons. It was evident the anglers were doubtful, but they still aimed the bow to where he had indicated. There were small gasps of surprise when the front of the boat passed through the illusion.

He only briefly looked back to see if finding the way out would be just as tricky. It was a pleasant discovery that the illusion only worked the one way. Then he searched out the cavern for any sign of the elf. There was plenty of shadowed places for the monster to hide, but not as many as he had been anticipating. The cavern was also well lit. The blue crystals that had caught his interest in the tunnel filled the space in a soft glow. If he had not needed to cross an illusion to enter it, this much unnatural, yet beautiful, light would speak to the cave's magic.

It was a wonder Viren had not been down here to ruin it.

Corvus caught sight of a ledge to one side. One large enough that a couple of kids and one elf to comfortably rest on. There was no one there now, but there was two packs of elven design. One of which laying open and its contents strewn over the floor. He motioned for the rowers to move to the ledge. Then, avoiding the melting ice that covered part of it, he cautiously leapt onto the stone platform. He held up his hand to let the soldiers know to wait while he checked the space for traps.

With their focus split between the ledge, its contents, and a suspicious looking nook feet from the boat, no one was watching the waterfall. If they had, they might have seen a sneaky figure swimming under the surface towards the exit. Tam had to use every ounce of self control inside him not to gasp for air when he surfaced behind a rock near the opening. He watched the humans while he caught his breath. He nearly bit his tongue to keep from cursing when he realize he had left he and Rayla's bags on the ledge. Fock! He had been so intent on hiding- even if it had been in the nick of time- that he had forgotten one of the most basic lessons as an assassin: never leave your belongs where they could be found!

He really hoped there were not any humans that could read elven.

Tam literally bit the inside of his cheek this time to keep from swearing. This was not some human back village. This was the flipping capitol of Katolis. There were probably dozens of scholars that could easily translate.

Fock! Runaan and Verr had always been on his arse about writing his mission notes in code. Its just... he struggled with remember which codes to use for what. In his defence, they were asking him to learn another language, for Moon's sake! He barely knew EarthBlood, and he was raised by his EarthBlood speaking Gran.

A slew of vulgarities filled his thoughts. It only frustrated him more that he could not say a single one aloud.

\--

Amaya watched the boat disappear. An illusion, of course. That was a moonshadow elf's forte, after all. She would have preferred Corvus had come back to let her know before risking going into the cavern. She could have arranged for several boats to take her and her battalion inside. He was not some grunt scout, though. There was a reason she let him go into the tunnel by himself. It was comforting to know this time he had back up.

She, and the seven soldiers she had ordered to do so, waited. Their eyes trained for any indication the elf was trying to escape. They stood at attention for perhaps twenty minutes. There was a slight movement in the water that had her grabbing the hilt of her sword. A second later, the boat emerged. Corvus and company looking to be in the exact same shape as when they entered.

Unfortunately, the Princes were not with them.

She remained stoic as the boat moved close enough to the shore for Corvus to dismount. 'What did you find?'

“A magic cavern,” he promptly answered at attention. “It's mostly filled with water, but we located the shoot exit. The Princes were not there, but I did find a broken bottle of bubble bath, and there was ice along the only dry ledge.”

'Would they have attempted to go back up the shoot?'

He shook his head, “The angle of the stone suggests the shoot is meant for someone to slid down, but not climb back up. I had a difficult time trying to climb up maybe ten feet to see if they had. I don't believe the Princes would have managed it. Unless Prince Callum used magic, that it. And there are no weapons marks to indicate the elves tried.”

Amaya raised an eyebrow, 'more than one elf?'

Corvus firmly nodded. He waved over one of the guards that had gone with him into the mystery cave. The other soldier handed him two bluish-green, single strap packs. The fabric alone spoke of elven design, but the various decorative embroidery drove the nail to the plank.

“These were on the ledge outside of the shoot,” he offered the first out to her. “The one that had been laying closed was somewhat neatly arranged, but the belongings at the top had been shoved inside. Either the owner was in a hurry, or the second pack's owner had gone through it, and didn't care how things were arranged when they repacked it.”

Amaya raised her hand to indicate she needed a moment before he continued. Then, she searched through the bag she had been handed. It was just as Corvus said. The top items- a balled up bedroll, a half eaten ration bar, and a couple jars that smelled like medicine- were haphazardly thrown together. Everything beneath that, however, was perfectly organized. The clothing was neatly folded. A little box with tinder and flint was divided up according to flammable material, and placed so that it would be jostled as little as possible while the carrier was in motion. The whetstone, bottle of some type of red liquid, a book, more rations, a comb, soap, a strange wooden whistle, a prickly cloth that reminded her of her armour polishing rags... all of it was placed that nothing would disturb the rest. The owner could have blindly stuck their hand inside knowing exactly where whatever they needed was at.

She would have packed her own belongings the same way. This was professionalism. A habit drilled in from experience...

Or because one's father happened to be a band leader, and would expect nothing less.

Unfolding the clothing to inspect, she noted the stitching better catered to a younger, feminine body type. Admittedly, it could still be worn by a slimmer male frame, too; like that of an elf. She laid out the spare top and pants together on the ground. If the pants covered the elves entire legs when worn, it looked like the individual would be shorter than herself.

That matched what King Harrow had told her.

Then, she grabbed the book. She knew from combat and searching through war prisoner's things that many elves kept journals. Their purpose was different from elf to elf. She had once had a prisoner who's journal was translated to have various cooking recipes between their coded mission notes. Flipping to the middle, the pages were surprisingly blank. She then zipped through towards the beginning. There were dozens of pressed leaves, moulted feathers, and flowers. None of it looked like something intended to be smuggled back to Xadia. In fact, some of looked to be from Xadia. Eventually, she did find some writing, but it only took up the front and back of the first four pages.

General Amaya could not read elven. The Breech battalion did have a translator for when they managed to intercept messages. Unfortunately, said translator had remained behind with those she left to protect the fort in her absence.

She turned to one of the scouts present, 'Send for the Crow Lord. Find out if he's fluent in elven writing.'

When the scout left with a salute, Amaya motioned for Corvus to give her the second bag. He did so without protest. Going through this bag, the items were similar. Instead of a whetstone, though, there was seven, palm-sized hunks of metal. There was a half-attempt at organization, but mostly just to be sure everything fit. The only thing the owner of this bag seemed to be careful about where it was placed was a small bottle of green liquid. She did not need to uncork it to smell its sickly bitterness. It was not poison, at least not one she recognized. She would have to ask an alchemist to have a look to find out exactly what it was.

Amaya scrunched her nose when she pulled out this bag's journal, and found it was coated in crumbs. She wiped away the mess, and then opened the pages. This one had several more pages written than the first one did. There were parts scratched out, and then the same characters written again with a different arrangement, or a new rune within. Some things were added to the margin. The journal owner was not the only writer, either. From time to time, the messy scrawl would be accompanied by writing that looked like lovely calligraphy art. It did not match the hard, slashing line work of the first journal. Mostly, the foreign writing made up little notes beside the messy stuff. Occasionally, there were pages that the two alternated in an unspoken conversation. The two parties were close, then.

Despite all of that, it still did not fill the first quarter of the book.

'These are hardly written in. That means two novice assassins,' Amaya signed her thoughts.

“An accomplice?” Gren inquired.

Corvus answered first, “If they were, it turned sour at some point.”

From his pocket, he produced a handkerchief. Opening it revealed a large, blood stained shard of glass. There were bloody fingerprints. Whoever had been injured by the glass had needed to pull it out.

Amaya sunk into her thoughts. Then, she met Corvus' eyes. 'You said there was ice on the ledge?'

He nodded.

There had definitely been a fight, she concluded. One the boys had managed to escape from because the second elf- assumed to be the knife wielder- had come to land, and encountered those soldiers.

The fog _had_ been a cover to escape, then. She mentally cheered a 'Good job, Callum'.

So, why were there no prints if the boys had made a run for it?

Amaya's eyes landed on the still waiting boat and its owners. Her gaze followed the current as it raced around a bend. True hope started to shimmer in her heart. The tunnel had purposefully been designed as an _escape_ shoot. There had to have been a boat prepared for whoever used it to get out. If not, ice was buoyant. Their attacker would not have been able to swim fast enough. _That_ was why they came to land... to pursue on foot. They had not know it as they fought to their deaths, but the pair that had been slain in the fog had likely saved the Princes lives by distracting the knife elf.

An elf that was still at large.

Amaya set about giving orders for search parties much farther down the river. A standing unit was left to watch the cave entrance for anyone going in or out. A messenger was sent to the King with an update, the elves' packs were to be taken back to the castle with the most recent scout rotation, and the fishermen were to be compensated for their assistance. At last, she mounted her horse, and order a team that included Gren and Corvus to ride with her. It would have taken a few hours to get there, even by boat, but there was a spot she knew the boys would go for shelter.

As they raced through the trees, one more detail she would rather not acknowledge knocked at the door to her thoughts: the elf girl.

Her pack was left behind, there was only one trail of footprints, and she was just as unaccounted for as the Princes. Amaya knew what it looked like...

It _looked_ as if- maybe- the elf girl had fought to protect the boys. That would be the second time she turned on her own for them. Maybe third since the knife thrower had also been in the tunnels to have killed three guards.

Crap. Harrow was right. The girl probably did not push Claudia, either. If the second elf had been the one to do it, that would mean the brace mark in the floor really had been from the girl trying to catch Viren's daughter, and not to be sure the deed was done.

An _elf_ had tried to save a dark mage's daughter; who was also a dark mage.

A _moonshadow_ elf was protecting her nephews. It had to be because of whatever they found.

But why were the other elves not also protecting them?

Double fuck. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was King Harrow's and the prisoners' ravings about destined pairs. No matter how she looked at it, Amaya kept coming back to the same conclusion: a moonshadow elven assassin had a crush on her sweet, inquisitive nephew.

She chanced a glance to the heavens. This is one of your ideas, isn't it, sis? She thought. As if to answer, a shooting star zipped across the sky. Amaya wanted to roll her eyes, but she had to focus on where she was riding.

Fine... Just. Fine. Okay. It was helping to keep her boys safe, then fine. She would accept the elf liked Callum. And she would _maybe_ be able to stomach Callum liking this... Rayla. As long as they did not kiss in front of her, she could looked the other way. Heck, being deaf she could very easily ignore any flirting between them. Besides, they were still young. It was probably puppy love. Life threatening, 'one shunned her own people' kind of puppy love. They would grow out of it. Amaya blatantly ignored that Sarai and Harrow had been puppy love, too. Or that there was an old saying among warriors that bonds forged by hardship were stronger than sunfire steel.

Triple fuck. If they married, she was retiring and moving to some remote, unclaimed island in Katolis' south seas.

\--

Tam knew he had lucked out. After using the boat's shadow as cover out of the cave, he swam with the current as hard as he could beneath the surface. The swift moving water meant he was around a bend by the first time he surfaced. He dove again just to be sure he fully cleared the view of the gathered forces. The second time he came up for air, there was cliffs to one side, and trees to the other. Exhausted beyond a doubt, he laid back to let the river take him further downstream.

Now how was he going to find the Princes? How was he going to find Verrago and Lucca, for that matter? They were not going to be impressed with him. Sure, the wee bastards had run off while he was away, but they would still blame him for kids' escape.

He wondered if the other two had already sent the ransom letter. Yeah, no, that still did not feel right to even think about.

At least the cold numbed his heel and leg. Floating along, he could only look up into the moon's face. Oh she was lovely tonight. Not as powerful as the night prior, but he could still feel that buzzing inside him as though on the brink of being able to make himself see-through. He could pretend he was bathing in moonlight. This was nice. Everything else around him was going to shite, but this was nice. He was an elf shaped cloud lazily watching the moon, and she was watching him back.

A tiny rock bounced off his chest. It startled him enough that he flailed. He sank only a second. When he came back up for air to find where the stone had come from, he spotted two set of illuminated eyes peering out from the trees. Oh good, the other two had found him first.

He gave a disappointed sigh before making his way to shore. Back to the shite pile, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Amaya's figured it out. But will the elves catch up? Gonna have to wait until next Thursday.  
> Also (sort of) sorry about the cliffhanger. I had hoped to hit the 19th chapter today so that you guys could have a week of warm fuzzies... but we get the start towards the Banther Lodge instead! My bad.  
> As always, I hope you have enjoyed. Thank you for your kudos, and support. I can't even keep up with responding to all your thoughtful comments! Wow you guys are fantastic!


	21. Searching for a Sign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget you guys. I've just been super busy today because I'm preparing to go camping next week. Which brings be to the purpose of this note: Sadly, there will not be a post next week. It's also a week without my laptop to do any writing, so, unless I catch up after I get home, I won't even be able to make it up to you guys with a double post the following Thursday.  
> I hope you all understand.  
> In the mean time, please enjoy this chapter.

King Harrow sat beside his cold fireplace with note in hand. He had told his staff that he was heading to bed for the evening. Sadly, even as exhausted as he felt, sleep continued to elude him. Not wanting to draw attention to the fact he was still awake, his only light was a single candle in its holder that he had placed on the mantel.

His eyes trailed over the neat scrawl. He had read the words over a thousand times, already. Each pass through seemed to dig a deeper hole inside him. Still, he found himself reading it, again.

_To the King of Katolis,_

_We have your son._

_You have until sunset tomorrow to end your own life. If you agree to our demands, he will be released back to Katolis. If not, you will never find his body._

_The Moonshadow Assassins_

He rubbed the need to sleep from his eyes. A twisted side of his humour mentally pointed out he would be given an eternal sleep if the elves had their way. It really was not the mindset to be making such huge decisions in. He grabbed the candle, and moved over to his desk. Since his head was a tangled web, he decided the best action was to write down his thoughts the best he could.

First, the note:

_The assassins have one of my sons. They have not specified which one._

_What has happened to my other son?_

_Can I be sure they truly do have one of my boys? Will they actually return him safely if I comply?_

_What is the elf's_

His hand stopped when he realized he was doing it, again. His quill struck a line. Then he started writing once more.

_What is ~~the elf 's~~ Rayla's part in all of this? Is she an alley that is truly friends with my boys?_

A knock at the door ended his musing. He sighed as he put away his quill, “You may enter.”

The large wooden door clicked open. One of his stationed guards blocked whoever the visitor was as he announced, “Your Majesty. The High Cleric wishes to speak with you.”

Already, that did not bode well to him. Dozens of worst case scenarios started to play in his head. At the top of the list was that one of his sons had been found dead. It was, after all, part of a Clerics job to inform the deceased's next of kin. Who better suited to deliver such crushing news to him than the High Cleric herself?

“Let her in,” his voice wavered with his growing dread. He stood to greet Opeli as she was allowed inside.

She deeply bowed to him, “Your Highness.”

“Lady Opeli,” he politely returned. “I was not expecting to see you until after the Night Vigil.”

It was an overly civil way for him to ask her what she was doing here. Thankfully, Opeli had always been a woman direct to the point. “Lord Viren interrupted the Vigil. He said that he intends to bring his daughter back from the dead, and has ordered for her body to be moved to his study.”

Shock only lasted a blink for the King. Then, he leaned against his desk, and placed his face in his hands. Of course Viren's answer to grief was to undo that which caused it.

He straightened himself back up to appear more put together than he felt. “When you saw him, would you say Lord Viren is in any condition to preform magic tonight?”

She was evidently confused, but promptly answered non-the-less, “To be honest, I don't know how he's out of bed.”

King Harrow thoughtfully nodded, “Allow him to move her to his office. She will be apart of tomorrow's Night Vigil once I have dealt with Lord Viren in the morning.”

He could see her jaw clench, and knew that was not the answer she had hoped for. Yet, there was sympathy within her eyes when they met his own. He knew he must have looked awful for even Opeli to bite her tongue.

“Of course, your Highness,” she gave another bow. Her words holding a finality that spoke of her intent to be dismissed.

King Harrow raised a hand as if to stop her, “There is one more thing. You'll have to forgive me, it has been some time since I've last paid dues to the paragon.”

Opeli gave a half laugh, “Approximately nine years since your last visit to the temple, if I'm not mistaken. Thankfully, Lady Justice is an understanding being, or else your avoidance would have offended her.”

A small chuckle slipped from his lips, “I'm not so sure it hasn't.” Then, he sighed, “I believe I may have, unintentionally, welcomed the Lord of Shadows into my heart. My sons- my kingdom, at that- are paying for my sins, and I'm not sure what I could do to repent for my actions. What would you suggest?”

She was thoughtfully quiet for a moment, then answered, “The Lord of Shadows is devious. He has many faces, sometimes even pretending to be one of the true six. He knows how to feed on one's desires to achieve his goals. That is why the Lords and Ladies of the Paragon are forgiving to those who have unknowingly transgressed. You need only pray to them.”

Prayer... of course that would be the High Cleric's answer. King Harrow bowed his head with his shame, “I don't think it will be enough.”

The room grew quiet. Opeli looked off in thought while Harrow looked down into his own. Tired of being ignored, Pip flew over to rest on the King's shoulder. He nuzzled his beak against the man's cheek. Instinctively, King Harrow reached up to stroke the bird's feathers.

“It sounds as though you are in need of a prophecy,” Opeli folded her hands together.

He could not help the disbelief that coloured his tone, “You want me to see a soothsayer?”

She snapped from her thoughts to return her attention to the King. With a shake of her head, she smiled and answered, “I don't mean that kind of prophecy. It's a prayer where one asks for an omen from the Lords or Ladies. A type of sign. Something to guide your soul back to the Paragon's grace.”

The King gave an intrigued _hmm_. He could use a sign right about now. He stopped petting Pip to place his finger and thumb on his beard. His companion chattered in his ear as the great bird stepped side to side to get his attention. “Do you have a moment to preform this prayer?”

“Of course, your Highness,” she gave a bow. Then, she motioned to the floor between them. “Would you please kneel?”

Carefully, King Harrow bent to one knee. Pip squawked in protest at such movement, but surprisingly did not fly off. Opeli stepped forward. She placed her hand atop his head careful to avoid touching the crown.

“King Harrow of Katolis, by your own admission, you believe the Lord of Shadows has tainted your heart. Do you wish to humble yourself to the will of the Paragon?”

“I do.”

“Is there a specific Lord or Lady whom you ask this boon from?”

At first, he was drawn to the Lady Dreams. If she was one and the same to the elves' Summoner, maybe she truly did favour Callum. Perhaps, as the boy's father in all but blood, she would be willing to aid him. He dismissed the idea just as quickly. She was a spirit of the arts, and magic. He was not creative like his son, nor was he a mage.

Then, Lady Justice came to mind. She had graced him with a visit in his dreams once before. It had been she who he had looked to for guidance since becoming King. Up until Sarai's death, that is. Would the Lady still aid him if he had been ignoring her for so long?

This was not a problem of justice, either. If anything, this moment was ushered by unrest within himself. Who better to guide him to inner peace than the Lady of Reflection?

But, more than inner peace, he wanted his boys to be safe. Would that not mean he should ask for help from the Lord whose very name was Protection?

Except, Opeli had mentioned he needed a prophecy. The singular word turned his thoughts to the Lord of Fortune. It would be nice to know what the future held. He could certainly use the mysterious Lord's luck right now, too.

Since he had thought of the other five, he considered how the Lord of Bounty might play into this too. The answer came almost instantly. The first time he had been tempted by darkness- that he could think of- was when he was trying to help a neighbouring kingdom during a famine. He had tried to fix the doom he had brought to his own kingdom by stealing the heart of the magma titan... and it had cost the lives of three Queens; his own beloved wife included. He should have realized back then, yet he allowed himself to continue warring with Xadia for a problem he started. The King of the Dragons may have committed many crimes against humanity- he might have deserved to be slain- but the egg of the Dragon Prince... King Harrow knew he should never have allowed Viren to destroy it.

He really had fallen far from grace, he mused. After all, based on his thoughts, he would need the aid of the entire paragon to overcome the last several years of wrongs.

“I am open to guidance from any of the Lords or Ladies that are willing to help me,” he solemnly bowed his head.

Pip turned in place as the King spoke. He thought his friend had grown bored, and was going to fly back to his perch. Instead, the bird did something he had not done since being taught otherwise; he crapped on King Harrow's shoulder. The majority of the excrement missed the King, and Opeli, thanks to how Harrow was kneeling. The sudden splat on the floor did cause both humans to jolt away to avoid the mess.

His sudden motion spooked Pip. The large black and green bird squawked. His wings nearly smacking the King as he rushed to fly away. In an attempt to evade a feathered club to the face, Harrow instinctively ducked to the side. This threw him off balance that he fell against his desk. The heavy furniture could not completely support him, and slid along the ground a couple inches.

Atop the desk, the candle tipped over. Hot wax spilled over part of the page the King had been writing on. A flap of Pip's wing sent enough of a gust to curl one corner directly into the flame. The parchment- and the blank pages beneath- easily caught fire. What was not covered in wax quickly became engulfed.

Thankfully, Opeli saw the pages catch. She swiftly knocked them to the ground, and stamped out the flame without a second's hesitation. The candle fell with her actions, and promptly snuffed out before hitting the floor.

The wood scrapping on the stone floor only further frightened Pip. A loose feather that had been in the process of moulting fell free as he shot off into the air. He did as many panicked birds tended to do and flew directly for the nearest source of light... straight into a window with a loud _bang_. Confused, and on the ground, he grew more vocal until King Harrow hurried over to sooth him.

In that same moment, the bedroom's doors opened. The standing guards had their weapons at the ready.

“Stand down,” King Harrow quickly ordered as he stroked his ruffled songbird. The action calmed him just as much as it did Pip. “Everything is alright. Pip was just misbehaving.”

They observed the moonlit room as they did as ordered. The first that had announced Opeli's presence before crossed his fist over his heart. “We're sorry to disturb you, your Majesty. Is there anything you need?”

“No. You may return to your posts,” he settled Pip onto the perch. Turning to Opeli- who was smoothing out her cloak- he added, “Perhaps it would be better to continue this prayer at the temple in the morning.”

Though her heartbeat was ringing in her ears at the sudden start, she kept her voice even as she answered him, “As you wish, your Grace.”

She gave another bow. Then, followed by the guards, she left.

King Harrow rubbed his eyes as he moved to light another candle. This one firmly in the tall candelabra. With light returned to his chambers, he set about collecting the fallen candle, and the remains of his notes. Looking over the charred parchment, it was clear that nothing he had written remained. The only thing that did was coated beneath a large glob of wax that had the High Cleric's shoe tread on it.

He sighed to himself, perhaps this was a sign to leave things be for the night. He tossed the ashen paper into his fireplace before going to change his soiled pajama top. He did not see it, but a breeze from the chimney tussled the wax covered page. If he had bothered to remove the wax, he would have learned that some of his writing had survived.

' _she an alley that is truly friends'_

_\--_

“Traitor!” Verrago yelled as she held her middle.

The blood. There was so much blood seeping from the wound.

“Ye wee bitch!”

Tam's enraged voice made her whip her head about to find him in the dark. On the second pass, she found him... knelt over Verrago's dead body.

He grasped at his sister's cold, blood covered hand, “Here Ah was watchin' o'er yer human pets fur ye, while ye're murderin' my sister!”

“Ah didn' mean it!” Rayla cried. “It was an accident.”

Runaan appeared behind Tam. She had never seen such hatred in his eyes. Especially never directed at her. “It was not enough for you to let that human go. You had to make sure we all died by your own hand.”

“What? No! Runaan-”

“Traitor!” Lucca and Seumas' voices called as they flanked her on either side. Their weapons at the ready with the intent to kill written all over their faces.

“Ah'm no' a traitor. Ah swear,” she backed away.

Her hands raised as a surrender, but then she noticed her blades were in them. Sticky red coated them. It was not berry juice covering the fine edges. She gasped as she let go of her swords, but they remained stuck to her hands. That was when Lucca charged at her. Acting against her will, her body easily fell into a counter strike. She could feel her sword slicing through him. A warm wetness splattered onto her as Lucca fell to the ground.

“No, no, no, no, no!” she could only look on horrified at her band mate's fallen body. His blood pooling over her boots.

The panic rising in her veins caused her to step backwards... only to fall into water. The vague castle background disappeared as she was swallowed up. No matter how she thrashed and flailed, she could not get back to the surface. Pure terror filled her heart. As if that was not bad enough, metal flowers began to shower down around her. Dozens of enchanted crystals loosing their glow as they sunk into the abyss. She could feel them. The lives of everyone she had ever knew falling with each flower. Her chest burned with the need to breathe. She was not certain if the stinging in her eyes was from the water, or her desire to cry.

Then she snapped awake with a gasp. Soft light filled the fabric castle casting dazzling shapes onto the ceiling. Rayla turned her head to the sound of soft snoring. Ezran was sound asleep with his back to her. She knew it was because he was once again laying protectively around the egg. Bait was laying against his shoulders giving off his own snores. She watched the rise and fall of their breathing. The egg's glowing seemed to brighten and fade in time with Ezran's snores. It was comforting to know they were close, and safe. It was the reminder she needed that she was doing the right thing.

As relief washed in, she carefully sat up. It did not feel like she had gotten any sleep at all, but she could not calm her mind enough to lay back down. Perhaps a quick run in the moonlight would help. She checked that her movements were not waking either Prince.

Suddenly, her heart sank; Callum's side of the bed was empty. The covers had been neatly thrown back, so he had left willingly. Maybe he had just needed to use the loo, she tried to reason.

Still, she needed to be sure he was okay. With all the stealth she had, she easily slipped out of the blanket shelter. She did not need to go far to find him, as it turned out. Callum was sitting on the front steps when she opened the door. That damnable encyclopedia lay open in his lap. Quieter than even her own hearing could pick up, she moved closer to see which page he was reading. She recognized the diagram about moonshadow elves' horns, and their growth rate.

Which was only a few pages away from the sexual stuff.

Feigning annoyance, she snapped, “Ye're supposed ta be in bed.”

As she expected, Callum jumped in place. The book was nearly thrown from his lap. His head whipped back with an adorable wide-eyed look. “Rayla. You scared me!”

“Ah can see tha',” she teased before sitting down beside him. “Don' mages need like twelve hours o' sleep?”

That proud little sparkle he got every time she mentioned him being a mage was shimmering in his eyes. He grinned and met her playfulness with his own as he shrugged, “I don't know. I'm still kind of new at this whole being a mage thing.” Still good spirited, he inquired, “What about you? You didn't get a lot of sleep yesterday.”

“Ah'm fine,” she quickly lied. Even she knew she sounded unsure. To cover, she pointed up towards the moon, “It's always hard ta sleep the night after a full moon.”

Normally, that was true. It was not the same as the actual full moon, of course. That extra little jolt of energy was not even something every moonshadow elf went through. It was kind of like when an elf was born right handed, or how some moonshadow elves could not see in low-lighting. Ethari often joked that Rayla's post-moon syndrome was twice as bad because she got it from both her parents.

As of that moment, though, the moon's power was probably the only reason she was not dead to the world exhausted.

“Oh, so like a moonshadow elf thing?” He was so inquisitive and trusting as he looked at her.

She hardly kept herself from letting on her mild guilt for the small lie, “Kind o'.” Then, she was quick to change the topic, “Y'u never answered why ye're awake.”

Callum sheepishly looked down at the book, “Oh. Sorry. I couldn't sleep. Y'know, with assassins trying to kill my step-dad, and not knowing if he's okay, and then running away from home, and trying to stop a war. Sooo, I thought I'd do some reading. Take my mind off things for a little bit.”

She had not expected him to be that forthright with his feelings. It was weird. Honestly, it was nice that she did not have to dance around barely revealed clues... but still weird. Unsure of how to respond, she tentatively spoke, “Oh. Um, at least ye know the King's alive.”

She held up her right wrist to show him the tight band. It was only just starting to get to a point that would be considered mildly irritating. No doubt by tomorrow night it would actually start to become painful.

“There is that,” his voice spoke of gratitude, but he was looking at the ribbon with a deep frown. Then she could see the candle spark in his mind. Callum instantly started to flip through toward the back of the book.

“Wha' are y'u lookin' for?” she moved a little closer to see the book better.

“Those things are a moonshadow ritual, right?” he excitedly motioned towards the binds on her wrists.

“Yeah.”

“So, this book might have the answer of how to remove them,” he tilted the chapters cover page for her to see. On it in bold cursive was the words, _Rituals & Traditions_.

For the first time since saying goodbye to Runaan, real hope filled her. It could not be that easy, could it? If Runaan had been certain the binding could only come off by the death of the target, surely a human written book would not know any different. She tried to reign in her emotions, “It's worth a look.”

Callum happily turned to the next page. Together, they read:

_At last, dear readers, we reach the final chapter of this book. I purposefully titled this one to be last as it feels a bit redundant. Much of what is written here can be found sprinkled throughout the other chapters. Still, there are a number of superstitions, rituals, and other such traditions that needed to be explored in greater detail. For our finale, we will explore:_

_The Maiden: Keeper Of The Moon's Decree_

_What Is A Trial Of Lies._

_Common Folklore: What Moonshadow Elves Considered A Good Or Bad Omen._

_The Dance of the Winter Solstice (Expanded Edition From 'Moon Phases')_

_Rituals Believed To Create A World Between Life And Death_

_The Ghosting Ritual_

_Life Petals: How Moonshadow Elves Know A Travelling Loved One Has Died_

_Myths That Are Considered Fact And How Some May Actually Be True_

That one irked her a little bit. What would a human know between myth and reality?

“What about this one?” Callum distracted her musing by pointing lower on the list. Her eyes zeroed in on where he indicated.

_Moon Bindings, And Other Deadly Vows_

Excitement thumped against her ribs. Moon above, please let this be the answer! “Tha's it,” she shared his smile.

Rayla gripped at the stair's ledge to keep herself from snatching the book. Page by page, Callum eventually found the subsection they needed.

_With a culture so richly steeped in the ideals of honour, trust, and affection, it should come as no surprise that promises are held to the same esteem as law. To break a vow is a criminal offence, and it is believed that one should suffer for their transgression. Sometimes, this results in banishment so that the elf's fate 'can be dealt with by the Keepers of the Primal Sources'._

“Primal Sources? Wait, isn't that magic?” Callum curiously broke her concentration.

“Shh,” Rayla set her fingers over his mouth to silence him.

_In other cases, the severity may call for execution, or even ritualistic suicide (read further in this chapter for details)._

With her side pressed in close to his, Rayla could feel Callum cringe. She made a mental note to let him know no one has committed ritual suicide in centuries. Hardly anyone knew the recipe for the traditional poison anymore. She doubted even Verrago knew it, and she was among Silvergrove's top herbalists.

_But what if the one that committed a so-called crime had fled? Banishment would clearly mean nothing to them, and their crime might not be severe enough to warrant they be hunted by assassins. Furthermore, if a moonshadow elf is willing to go against a promise, then surely that same elf would have little qualms lying to cover it up. How do you keep one honest, then?_

_That is where Moon Bindings come in. There are currently three types of bindings in practice._

There was eight, but sure, she supposed there were technically only three _common_ bindings. Thankfully, the next couple lines eased her worry on if the writer had known the correct three.

_The Counsellor's Binding_

_The Healer's Binding_

_And The Assassin's Binding_

She wanted to flip ahead, but she noticed how intently Callum was reading. That look of wonder as his eyes zoomed along made her smile. She decided to let him continue, and read with him. At least, she skimmed along, and then would peek at Callum's features as he read.

He got a little squeamish around the part where the Counsellor's binding beheaded the host if they judged or enacted a law that was solely out of self interest, and/or purposefully unjust. There was a reason most of the county's council was made up of elders that maybe had a century left to live.

She did not blame him for turning over the pages detailing the seven steps of pain healers suffered depending on if they stole, neglected a patient, or refuse to help someone in need- or did not care for someone to the best of their abilities- out of prejudice, bias, or bigotry.

“Tha's why ye'll find more herbalists than true healers,” she explained. Thinking about it, since many elves were treated by unbound herbalists already, why was the healer's binding even still a thing?

Rayla herself chose to by-pass the parts regarding what an assassin's binding was going to do to her hands if she could not get them off. Callum's hand on her own kept her from turning the page. When she gave him a questioning look, he shrugged, “There might be something in here to help.”

She silently pulled her hand away to let him continue. When he finally turned the page, her eyes hurried along to the part she was interested in.

_Given the consequences of each binding, none of them are done lightly. I had asked if there was any way the bindings came off. Asides from one's death, or dismemberment, that is. Surely there must be occasions where, say, an elf wants a career change, or undergoes some hardship that requires them to step away from one of these three positions._

_A Counsellor's binding apparently comes off if the individual steps down or retires. If they do this, however, they are indefinitely band from being allowed a seat on the council ever again._

_The healer's binding, on the other hand, is permanent. Even a retired healer is expected to help someone- if they can- in times of crisis._

_Finally, of course, is the assassin's binding. Since the assassin's binding only occurs on missions, they are unaffected by career changes or other such life events. Upon the death of their target, the ribbon harmlessly falls off. Even if the assassin was not the cause of death. No other way to remove the binding before it fulfills its gruesome deed is known._

She sighed as disappointment swiftly kicked hope in the arse. She had known to not to expect anything from it. It was still bothersome to know nothing could be done. Her hands were doomed to be lost along everything else she was giving up.

Her eyes turned up to the moon. If this was the right thing to do, why was she being punished so? Was it because she had lied to her band about killing that scout? Was it because she failed as an assassin each time the opportunity had been presented to her? Did the moon think she was a weak coward like her parents?

If the Maiden was real, Rayla mentally asked for some sign that her suffering was a warrior's journey, and not a trial of lies. If she knew it was a warrior's journey, at least that could give her hope that the Maiden might favour her; even, maybe, grant her a boon, or a prophetic dream. She would accept anything right about now.

Callum reached the end of the page with a deep frown. She could see him glance at her from the corner of her eye. “That was, uh, educational. But hey, you know, just because it says there isn't a known way to get it off doesn't mean there isn't a way. There is this part here about an assassin and their band not being allowed to go through with a binding if the target is one of the band member's kin.”

She set her chin on her hand as she gave him a sarcastic look, “Pretty sure none o' us _elves_ are related ta a _human_ Prince and King.”

“No, but you don't have to be related by blood to be kin,” Callum countered as he closed the book. “King Harrow is my dad, but he's not my birth father. If you guys agreed that you're family, then you're family. And there's that whole moon's decree thing where a friend is as good as kin, right? You and Ez are already friends. I bet he would love it if you asked him to be your little brother. Or distant, several times removed cousin. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

Rayla's posture straightened as she followed his thinking. It was true. Runaan was not her relative, but he had practically raised her. She might not be blood related to the band, but she considered them her family, too.

It helped that she already liked Ezran. He was a good kid. Being his big sister would not just save her hand; it would save his life. Like Callum said, the entire band was not allowed to target one member's kin. Not through official moon bindings, anyway. If Ez was her kin, everyone's bindings for him would come off. There would be no more reason for them to target him. Especially since the Dragon Prince lived!

“Yeah... Yeah, tha' might work,” she cautiously let hope bloom again.

The King would be a bigger problem, but loosing one hand was better than both. If it even worked.

“Come on. Lets go talk to Ez,” Callum jumped to his feet.

Rayla quickly snagged him by his shirt, “Let him sleep. Mah hand isn' goin' ta fall off before sunrise.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess your right,” he scratched the back of his head. “We should probably go back to bed, too.”

“Y'u go ahead. Ah still need ta run off some extra energy,” she fibbed. With her nightmare long behind her, and a possible solution to her binding, she was growing heavily aware of how tired she was.

Callum looked up at the moon, “Oh. Right... I guess I'll see you inside, then.” He awkwardly stepped towards the door. “Goodnight, Rayla.”

She gave him a warm smile, “Goodnight, Callum. And thanks for the idea.”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything I can do to help.” The moon reflected on those perfect green eyes of his that it made her insides flutter. He was so awkward, yet so kind and brave. She was not sure how, but his presence made her believe everything was going to turn out fine.

Maybe the Maiden had already given her a boon.

She watched him wave another goodnight before he disappeared inside with encyclopedia in hand. Swift as the human clothing would permit her movements, she climbed up onto the roof of the lodge. She turned her eyes to the moon with a gentle smile on her lips, “Thank y'u.”

Just then, a shooting star zoomed across the sky. Rayla's jaw dropped. It seemed the Maiden of the Moon was not the only one looking after her that night. A shooting star was how the Soothsayer of the Stars let lost or weary hearts know which direction to go.

And that star had been racing from Katolis' castle to Xadia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a lot of time, so I will just say thank you all for reading, I look forward to your feedback and comments, and I hope you all enjoyed. See you all the Thursday after next!


	22. Dark Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter comes with a mild warning. Dark Magic ahead, and thus, dark ideas/subject matter. Some readers may find this chapter upsetting.

_Approximately sometime after 2 AM..._

He was quickly discovering that lacking his limbs was going to make the following ritual exceptionally difficult. Lord Viren had needed to rely on the money in his pockets to gain the unquestioning assistance of one of his 'friends'.

Sarabrima, more commonly known as 'The Golden Shadow', had served as a smuggler to him- and eventually Claudia, too- since before Soren was born. He knew he could trust her silence; even if it did not come cheap. The Neolandian born sneak thief silently collected each vial and object Viren asked of her. With the witching hour growing closer, all that remained was the most important ingredient.

“Where are they?” Viren growled from the ground. The massive amount of pain coursing through him to simply sit there only further soured his mood. The necessary chalk sigils had already been drawn out on the floor. The candles were prepared, and the four sacrificial offerings sat on each compass direction. He had even made sure to bathe in sea salt water at midnight. All of it meant nothing without the parts he needed!

“Patients, my Lord,” Sarabrima's cold eyes watched him. “They will get here in time.”

He knew she was correct. Sarabrima's team was the best at what they did. Yet, after the night he was having, Lord Viren was anxious. Being able to complete this ritual would be the difference between raising Claudia and not. It could not wait until the next night. He needed both hands to even use a stasis spell to keep her from decaying. Especially since there was no telling how long it was going to take to find the correct way to bring her back.

At last, there was a knock at the door.

“Enter!” Viren barked. The fact he could not angrily march to the door to throw it open himself added to his ire. It was nearly over, he reminded himself as he gripped tightly to his staff.

The door opened, and the pair of henchmen walked in. Between them they carried a regular looking storage crate. Even as strong as they were, the chest and its treasure within weighed heavily in their arms. They carefully lowered it to the floor with a _thud_.

“We have something extra special for you, my Lord,” the bigger of the two brutes bowed.

Viren's curiosity peeped, but his haste kept him firm. “Take it out, already. And close the door!”

The smaller henchman closed the door while the larger set about unlocking the chest. The top was opened filling the space with the smell of the flora oils the clerics used to prepare a body. Good, he mused, that meant it was fresh. Sarabrima looked on as he crawled his way over to inspect the goods provided. The first thing he noticed was a set of horns.

“An elf?”

Intrigued, the lead smuggler moved in closer to see for herself.

The bigger brute- oh, what was his name again?- proudly puffed up his chest. “It was the freshest, and most undamaged body they had. He's a beefy fucker, too, for one of their kind.”

“All the power and agility of a moonshadow assassin,” Sarabrima purred. Her eyes sparkling as though the chest before them was filled with ancient coin and precious gems. Then, collecting herself, she playfully smiled at Viren. “He would even give you an extra inch or two.”

Viren glared at her, “Bite your tongue.”

“I meant in height, my Lord,” her voice ever smooth as she met his angry glare. There was still the slightest upturn to the corner of her lips. “I am sure you are perfectly adequate in...” her eyes shifted down for a moment, and then up, again. “Other matters.”

He let his eyes tell her he knew what she had meant the entire time. There was no time to defend his manhood, however. Turning his focus to the naked creature presented, he considered the toned muscles. It seemed the only damage to it was bruising on the side of the head, and around the neck. Having only four toes per foot was going to be odd. The same with only four fingers. Still, a missing digit was far better than a missing hand. Plus, his accomplice had been correct. This body came with the promise of strength he could never hope to achieve as a human.

Naturally, he could not let on how much this interested him. That would just mean the deal would come at a higher price. “I'll have to modify the ritual, but I suppose it will do. Lay it at the centre of the glyph. Make sure the head rests on the Northern point.” He waved towards said point to make sure they knew which he meant.

“Which head?” the smaller brute muttered from the side of his mouth. He had not been as quiet as he intended, though. Lord Viren chose to ignore the comment.

Besides, the man's fellow underling had rammed his elbow in the henchman's ribs. Their leader's eyes narrow just the slightest. It was enough to warn them there would be consequences. The pair set about moving the corpse as instructed.

“Do not disturb the chalk,” Viren growled when one of the elf's feet was set too close to the south sigil for his liking. It was to be expected, though. This elf was tall. Manoeuvring it to perfectly fit within the already painted sigils required finesse. A grand order for the pair of henchmen, really.

By some miracle, they managed without damaging his hard work. He was not about to give a sigh of relief just, yet. Now came the unpleasant part.

But first, he used his staff to drag his potions bag to his side. From it, he drew his coin bag, and counted out what he had promised. “I know the usual agreement for what you have brought me tonight is ten gold pieces, but I would like to add eight shillings given your men did provide a near immaculate specimen for me.”

It was about two shillings more than what a 'gift' for a job well done should be, they both knew. Phrasing it in away that he was being amicable, however, made it impossible for her to try to haggle with him without it coming off offensive. They had both been at this game long enough to know a smuggler needed a good reputation with one client to gain access to potential others. Given his Lordship, and constant need of Xadian items, he was certain he was also her most lucrative client.

Her crow's feet crinkled only the slightest, but then her outward pleasantries returned. “How gracious of you, my Lord.” She confidently accepted the coins. “For this extra coin, perhaps I can extend a few more minutes of my time to personally stay. In case you are in need of further assistance while conducting your spell.”

Ah... so she was interested in the ritual. Of course she would be. It was already high valued knowledge to have the ability to replace one's lost or damaged limbs with another's. With the alterations he had in mind in order to use an elf instead of another human, whether it was just a theory or not, the outcome could mean a sudden need for elven corpses. As much as he did not like the creatures, and would love the excuse to have them hunted to extinction, he did not care for the idea of an inflated price for their parts.

“You and I have been in business together for some time, Sarabrima. Which is why I am confident in assuming you would not want to be gruesomely shredded to pieces by ritual dark magic,” he motioned towards the sigils.

It was a lie. If the ritual had had a range, it would be foolish to attempt it in the next room over from his children.

She pursed her lips as she side glanced at the chalk markings. Then, with an expression of boredom carefully place, though he knew it meant she was disgruntled, she responded, “Your warning has been heard. I shall take my leave, then.”

She and her men gave him a deep bow. Once they left, he made a point of casting a quick spell to seal the door behind them. The simple spell, however, winded him. He gently laid back to catch his breath. He dare not let his eye close, though. If he missed 3 AM, this would all be for nothing. While he lay their, he considered the current placement of the sacrifices, and how they would need to be altered.

_North is the head, without which one cannot live,_

_Thus something irreplaceable to self one must give._

_To the South be something mighty, for bones were crafted of dust_

_But be wise of choice, as rock will crumble and metals will rust._

_Left is the side where the heart beats, thus in East, one will rest._

_The mix of thy blood and that of your prey shall finish off the West._

He groaned to himself; what was it with ancient rituals being written in verse? Thinking of poems made him think in rhyme like some sort of curse...

When it came to annoying, there was really nothing worse...

Really? Seriously? Grr, his brain was about to burst!

“Focus!” he growled. His mental minstrel coward away back into the forgotten corners of Viren's mind.

Much better. Now then...

North had needed something irreplaceable to the caster. It was tied to him, and therefore should not be altered. Even if there was part of him that wanted to keep his children's first breaths. It was that sentiment that the magic was relying on, he reminded himself.

West would also remain the same, too. Though mages and scholars had yet to figure out why, giving the blood of another to a person tended to make them deathly ill. No, he needed the binding between the two of them to make their blood one and the same.

That left South and East. Originally, neither needed to be magical or even from a different source, thus he had used the heart and horns of an buffer-ox. Now that the subject he was using had been a magical beast, he was certain everything would need to bare the essence of moon magic to it.

South was easier... Getting up, Viren grabbed the claw of a digger hawk from his satchel. With it, he carefully cast a swift severing spell on the elf's horns without damaging the head. There was a small trickle of blood, but it did not disturb the sigils. With the left over magic from the claw, he levitated the horns to replace the buffer-ox horns. He momentarily hoped doing this also ensured he would not grow horns once bound.

The heart was the bigger problem. He could not use his subject's as removing it would damage the chest. Seeing as his own ribs likely needed repair, he needed the body's torso to be intact. He considered the items in his personal chambers. It was where he hid the most valuable relics in his collection, after all. The same as Thunder had put that damnable mirror.

A mystery for another day.

A heart with moon magic in it. Perhaps something as valuable as a heart will do. Something like, say, a soul?

He reached once more into the bag, and pulled out another coin pouch. Though it resembled gold pieces inside, in truth each coin bore the captured soul of an elf. It was a secret he had been collecting for years. One that even Claudia had not known about, though she did once come close to discovering it. Not wanting to waste time picking through, he upturned the little pouch. Twenty-seven coins jangled to the floor. He slide aside the ones he did not need; nine sunfire, seven skywing, four tidebound, and five earthblood. All that remained were his rarest two; a pair of moonshadow guards from the den of the dragon King.

Viren looked back and forth between their forever terrorized expressions. These two had been a lot of trouble to him when he had first entered the dragon's lair. At least until he proved he was the superior race. Once encased in ice, the female had crumbled, and spilled on the secret about the egg's power. It had been entertaining to witness an ever proud moonshadow elf try to bargain for her and her companion's lives. It proved her to be compassionate, which could count as a heart.

He was more tempted to use the male, however. Viren had needed to repair his jaw thanks to that kick to his face. On particularly bad mornings, when his rejuvenation spell had worn off, he could feel the sharp ache across the side of his face. He could also argue the male would count as heart based on how he openly cried while Viren had cast the entrapment spell on the female. Viren had no idea if the elves had been a couple, or if it had been unrequited, but the utter defeat in the male's eyes after the spell had been complete was that of someone who had lost everything. Yes, the soul of an elf in love would certainly count as heart.

He would have liked to keep both of them. They were his only two moonshadow elves in his collection; though he did plan to add Claudia's murderer in the near future. Shame he did not have access to that little whore right now...

Of those he did have, though, which did he want to keep more?

The female was a symbol of his power over all Xadia's monsters.

Yet, the male deserved eternal imprisonment as revenge.

Which one would he use?

\--

Soren watched what remained of the latest ceremonial candle as it flickered and danced. His dad did not know he was still keeping Vigil for Claudia's soul. Admittedly, it had not been his idea. After his sister had been moved, and his father left him to watch over her while he spoke with one of his shady, smuggler 'friends', Opeli had stopped by.

“We may not be able to do a pyre in the morning, but you can still hold her Night Vigil here,” she had explained as she secretly handed him enough ceremonial candles to last until daybreak. He had waited an hour before actually lighting one. It had felt wrong to disobey his father. How did he know if what he was doing would mean Claudia could not be brought back? Granted, not holding her Vigil either way felt more wrong. He had already failed her the once, when it really counted. He refused to do so a second time. His sister's soul deserved peace. Even if she only got to glimpse the afterlife before their dad preformed his dark magic.

It seemed fortune favoured his secret mission that night. Viren had not returned to his office. It was just he, and his silent little sister.

His head rested on his father's desk beside her casket. The sleep he had managed to get yesterday had become a distant memory. Though they were no longer puffy, his eyes felt heavier than doing push-ups...

A sad, tired smile emerged as he perked up. “Hey Clauds. Do you remember that time I asked you to sit on my back while I did push-ups?”

Naturally, she did not respond. Still, just as he had been doing all night, he continued retelling any thought or memory that came to mind.

“You were all, 'Soren, you'll break your back doing that'. And I was like, 'No I won't'. I had to bug you for a whole ten minutes before you agreed to let me try. It was hard at first. Not that you are heavy! But then, when I got better, you started bringing books to read while you were sitting there. Remember that? Oh, and then you pranked me by asking the Princes to jump on too. You were laughing so hard you snorted.”

But then he frowned. He was never going to hear his sister's laugh, again.

Or was he? His father had done some pretty amazing things in the past with his magic. Creepy and weird, but still amazing.

Still, to bring back someone from the dead. Even magic had to have its limits, right?

He rubbed his eyes, then let his hand move up to push his bangs back. “I don't know what to think, Clauds. I already miss you so much. If Dad can bring you back, that would be the most awesomest thing ever. But... What if it hurts you? O-or what if you become cursed by the paragon? What if you have to eat human brains to stop your own brain from rotting?”

Realizing his imagination was running away from him, he braced his fist on the desk. He dared to look at his sister's face. The low light from office's few lit candles gave her pale skin an unnatural glow. Once more, he was taken back by how peaceful she looked.

“You're with the Lords and Ladies right now, right?” his voice was meek and uncertain. “You're probably bugging them with all kinds of questions, and reading every book or scroll they have about everything. I bet you now know why the sky is blue, right?”

He smiled to himself as he remembered all the times his little sister would tail after their dad firing off question after question. She was always happiest learning new things.

“Listen. Clauds. You probably already thought of this, but, just in case, maybe you could talk to the Lord of Fortune. He would know if you coming back would be a bad thing. A-and...” he gulped back the sorrow wanting to rise up with his next words. “If it is, you know, bad. Could you fight coming back? I bet the Lord of Protection would, er, protect you, if you asked. Or if he's busy, maybe you could send me a sign? That way I can stop Dad.”

He knew that would take a lot to do, but- for his sister's sake- he would. Somehow.

The serenity was shattered with a man's blood curdling scream. Jumping up from his chair, Soren's heart dropped. He had heard his dad yell enough through the years to know that scream belonged to him. Despite not having weapon nor armour, he raced out into the hallway.

In the wake of his hurry, he did not notice his chair had bumped something. Or that the thing that had been shifted behind him was a large mirror. The cover had been knocked off, and the chair had pushed hard enough to slightly skew its angle. It was a shame he did not notice. If he- or anyone, for that matter- had known what this would cause, he might have taken a moment to move it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just going to put out there, if you guys kill me, I can't finish the story and Viren doesn't get whats coming to him.  
> That said, I'm gonna go hide now... Until next time!


	23. The Chase pt1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm back (sort of)  
> So the quickest way to sum up my absence is this: This chapter and all the ones to follow had to be rewritten because the no longer aligned with the things I already had published here. Which kind of put me in a funk, and I could not get myself to write.  
> But, I'm finally starting to get into the groove again. I got this one done and tidied up so it could be enjoyed today (and to put a fire under my butt to keep going). It may or may not need to be edited once I get rolling on next chapter and so on.  
> Thank you everyone that checked in on me, and for the new readers' wonderful reviews. You guys are amazing!  
> Anyway, long overdue, but here it is! Enjoy :D

“No' so fockin' tight. Are ye tryin' ta stop mah leg frae workin'?” Tam snapped while he tried to stop his sister from tightening the tourniquet.

She swatted his hands away. “If ye dinnae keep yer voice down, Ah'll fockin' make yer mouth stop workin'.” Then she angrily knotted the bandage just a touch tighter to spite him.

“Fock aff,” he painfully hissed.

“Shh,” Lucca gave them a warning glare from over his map. “Do y'u want ta waste more time hiding from patrols?”

“Sure. No' like we fockin' hae anythin' better ta do. Ow!” Tam rubbed the spot on his head that Verrago had just 'love tapped'.

Leaving the siblings to bicker, Lucca once more started to mentally trace where there had been patrols on his journal map. It looked like the entire river was being covered. If Rayla had taken the boys out of the hide out- whether because they had been discovered or close to it- she would not have wanted to stay in the water long. Humans were also not as strong as elves at swimming. That current would have washed the boys far down the stream, if not drown them. The irritation on his left wrist told him at least Prince Ezran was still alive.

Where would they have gone? If there were still this many patrols, they had not returned to the castle. Or the village, for that matter. The only other remotely close dwelling was a hunting cabin, but, again, they were not where humans could fine them.

He rubbed his forehead. The pre-mission scouting he and Seumas had done meant they had mapped out as much of the territory as they could:

Where regular patrols were to be expected.

Human residences to avoid.

A sky hound den that they had accidentally ran into.

They had known to even mark various caves that might be used as hides for the King or his son.

But the fact there had been a _magic_ tunnel inside the castle meant there may be other places for them to hide. Places with illusions or secret keys that made it easily overlooked by those that did not know it was there. It was all the more frustrating when the human army leader confidently lead the way through the forest down river. That woman knew something that he was missing, and each second he wasted trying to figure it out was another second she was getting closer to the Princes; if she did not already have them by now.

His eyes travelled farther out. Down river was the human crypts. Beyond that, the next nearest structure was the King's personal winter lodge...

They had seen the servants closing it up for the year perhaps two months ago. It would be easy to reach by water if they had a boat. Which, if they _had_ been discovered, they may have snatched one. Secluded, a familiar place to the Princes, and only a couple hours travel from the castle. He bet that was where the leader and her crew were heading. Which, given the distance, even at full gallop the troops would not have made it there, yet.

They had time to catch up.

He folded up his map back into the journal, and tucked it into his pack. As he silently went into Runaan's bag, his actions caught Verrago's attention.

“Did ye find somethin'?”

“Possibly.” It was fortunate Runaan was always so diligent about exactly where he placed things when packing. It made finding the little sewn shut pouch all the easier. Maybe he should consider being more orderly with his own packing skills, he briefly mused. “There's a lodgin' far down the river. It's the most logical spot for Rayla and the Princes ta go. We need ta get there before the humans do.”

He carefully extracted the silver silk-like pouch. Despite looking like it was a bag stuffed with stone, it was lighter than air. Literally lighter than air as it tried to float out of his hold.

“Haud on. That's are only way home,” Verrago's eyes were wide as she stared at the little packet.

“Gettin' those Princes back is more important. We can walk back afterwards,” Lucca tore the top seam, but was careful not to let the inside be touched by moonlight just yet.

“Easy fur ye ta say. Ye're no' the yin with a hole in his foot,” Tam snapped while pointing towards said foot.

“Tam. Ah won' warn y'u again about yer voice,” Lucca whisper hissed.

Tam rolled his eyes, and rose one hand that only his last finger was raised towards Lucca.

Verrago pushed his hand down, “Will ye stop. We need ye ta keep the heid.”

“Aye, aye. Ah hae mah heid on,” he tiredly huffed back. All this running around after being injured on top of not sleeping since yesterday afternoon was wearing him down. He needed rest.

They all needed rest, if any of them dared to be honest with themselves.

Verrago felt like her abdomen was splitting open, again. She had not brought near enough lash root salve to heal such an injury, let alone while on the move. It would have been better to lay still for several hours while the medicine did its job. Not for the first time she could feel fear inching its way through her. Being an unofficial healer had its down sides; she knew all the worst ways her wound could kill her. It could be a slow bleed out, or the constant reopening could cause herniation until her bowels created their own septic infection.

Or she could be taken out by regular infection seeing as she had given Tam her remaining supply of disinfectant solution. It would have been too suspicious if he had gone back with a meagre amount after 'stealing' from her. He had been smart enough to dose the bandages he had applied to himself, but both of them would need more by morning.

At least their ailments could be healed given the correct medicine, and rest. Lucca refused to let it show, but something in his legs felt off. Jumps that used to be easy to land caused electric pain through the muscle. Simply flexing a certain way caused his hip to ache, or completely loose feeling in his toes. The strangest sensation was that it felt like he was wearing extra-woolly socks. Except he still wore the same thin pair he had been wearing before the battle in the King's tower. Unlike Verrago, Lucca did not know anything about what to look out for with different types of ailments. If he did, he might have recognized the signs of nerve damage.

They were all in a sorry state, for sure.

“Good,” Verrago stood ready to leave. “We're gaun ta need all our wits ta get home.”

Lucca barely raised an eyebrow, but Tam's mouth fully hung open, “Ye want ta desert our mission?!”

“Tam,” Lucca growled.

But he was not paying their current band leader any heed, “Verr, we'll be fockin' ghosted if we go back, 'n' the King still lives, ken?”

“O' course Ah fockin' know,” she snipped back, but thankfully her voice was kept low. Then her attention turned to the moon. “It's just, this mission's been cursed frae the start. Ah feel like we're bein' gie a sign ta leave it the fock alone.”

Lucca silently looked up as well.

Tam's eyes zipped back and forth between the pair. The he scoffed, “Ye tell meh ta keep the heid. Ah dinnae want ta walk all the way back ta Xadia, but we cannae let Runaan 'n' Seumas be captured fur shite. 'N' Gran needs us ta make it home. We hae ta finish this mission.”

Verrago settled her pack over her shoulder. Her eyes gave away she was still heavily conflicted. “Whit if its all fur nothin'? Our mission was ta kill the human King ' _n_ ' his lad. We hae already deserted that.”

Careful of his injured leg, Tam got up to place his hand on her shoulder, “Verr, ye're away in yer heid, again. Do that deep breathin' thing Gran is always on aboot.” He looked her dead in the eyes as he demonstrated a deep steady inhale, and a slow, easy exhale. He kept doing it until Verrago did the same.

“Thanks, ye numpty,” she said once the building panic quieted. Then, she fondly brushed his bands aside.

He flinched back with an indignant look on his face, “Oi! No' the hair!”

“Are we ready?” Lucca slung his and Runaan's packs onto his shoulders.

“Cannae gie her a minute, mate?” Tam huffed.

Before the boys could start arguing, she reached up to gently squeeze the hand still resting on her shoulder, “Ah'm good. Ah hate ta admit it, but, this wan time, yer right. We hae a mission ta finish.”

“Fock, ye just admitted Ah'm right aboot somethin'? Now we really are fockin' cursed,” Tam teased as he limped over to pick up Seumas' pack.

Verrago lightly snickered.

The trio silently nodded to one another, then Lucca raised the little packet to a beam of moonlight. The moment the seam was parted to let the light in, vapour poured from it. Before the mist hit the ground, it took shape into five identical winged-horses; each were saddled, armoured, and their reins were at the ready. A single horn gleamed like they were made of stars on each of their heads, but their bodies were pure silver moonlight. These creatures were, of course, nothing more than illusions. The spell to create them, however, used impossibly rare minerals from stars that fell to the earth. As long as the moon shown on their bodies, these beings lived, and could be ridden, like true steads.

“Oh fock,” Tam mumbled as he counted and recounted the moon stallions. Five _._ Not six... _five._

Verrago was stunned silent. The packet was keyed into the band's life lines the same as the flowers back home. It was to avoid humans using them should the assassins be killed, and their belongings looted. Unlike the flowers, though, there was nothing to tell one horse from another.

“Whit poor focker do ye think...” Tam trailed off as he glanced between the other two.

Lucca was a stone wall. His voice equally did not give anything away while he picked a stallion, “Keep your head. We'll know who ta mourn after the job is done.”

Verrago sighed as she took her own mount, “Ah dinnae want it ta be Runaan or Seumas, but Ah'm also hopin' it's no' the lass, ken?”

“Its whit she'd get fur trustin' humans, though,” Tam countered. He thoughtlessly came up behind his chosen stallion trying to figure out how he was going to get up without jostling his leg too much. Normally, moon stallion illusions were far better behaved than regular horses.

One still never wanted to walk up on them from behind, though.

The horse let out a surprised whinny at its reins unexpectedly being pulled, but no rider had come into it's view. All it could see in its periphery was a vaguely plum-coloured shape that did not walk like an elf. The animal spun, and gave a mean kick backwards to get whatever it was away. Tam was lucky to have been holding the reins, as they pulled him forward onto the ground before the horse could buck.

Unfortunately, he did not let go of the reins right away, and was dragged a short ways across the ground.

Lucca had been wise and fast enough to jump in to cover Tam's mouth. That left Verrago to wrangle, and calm the stallion.

Once it was certain the youngster was not going to loudly cuss up a storm, he let go, “Are y'u alright?”

“Naw, Ah'm no' fockin' alright,” he growled as he sat up. He checked his elbows. Sure enough, the skin was peeled and irritated with road rash. Tiny pearls of blood bubbled up, but it was not enough to freely flow. He wiped the excess away, and hissed various low volume vulgarities. From the corner of his eye, he could see Verrago's worried posture as she stroked the horse's nose.

He glanced at Lucca. The older elf was eyeing the smeared blood. Noticing Tam looking at him, he met his eyes. “Y'u know, there is such a thing as death by a thousands cuts.”

“Fock aff, its just a bit o' road rash.”

“Ah'm just sayin' ta be more careful. Y'u did promise yer blood for justice.”

An eerie chill ran up Tam's spine. He scoffed as he tried to pretend he thought Lucca was being ridiculous, “It was mah own fockin' fault, ken? If the Maiden was after meh fur mah mouth, the bastard beast would hae knocked mah teeth in when it kicked.”

“Please dinnae do that,” Verrago half-playfully begged the horse. “If he looses his looks, he'll hae ta rely on his brain. Ye know he'll be doomed.”

Enjoying a particularly good scratch, the horse nickered as if agreeing.

He wanted to mock her back, but he also knew the teasing comment meant her head was in a good place. She was silently agreeing that all this superstitious nonsense was just that... nonsense. The Maiden would not waste her time seeking to punish him over a stupid comment. Its not like Rayla was a favoured, after all.

No matter how talented she was...

And good hearted...

And basically was a natural example of the moon's decree...

And she found the lost egg of the Dragon Prince...

But just to be safe, he decided to maybe keep from saying anything else from now on that implied she deserved harm or worse. She was being dumb, in his opinion, but it was not his place to judge if she should be punished or not. After all, he did stupid shite all the time, and he was fine.

His leg ached from the slash splitting a little when he had been dragged. He rubbed near the tourniquet in hopes of easing it some. Ignoring the throbbing the best he could, he got to his feet. “Since ye 'n' that mother focker are such mates, ye can take that yin. But Ah get ta laugh mah arse aff when ye get bucked.”

“If we even make it onta the stallions before sunrise,” Lucca's composure slightly broke. Annoyance slipping into his voice as he move to his mount.

“Ye know ye would feel better if ye untwisted yer knickers frae yer arse,” Tam bit back. He went to the next nearest ride, making sure to approach from the side, and hopped up. It may have saved some pain in his leg and heel, but he had not thought of his poor gentlemen vegetables until after landing into the saddle. He managed to not curse, but he could not hold back the painful groan.

Verrago snickered as she climbed onto Tam's original chosen steed, “Eejit.”

Lucca openly gave him a pleased smile before directing his horse. With the command 'ascend', the three illusions flew up as fast as any war dragon. The remaining two vanished back into vapour when it was clear they were not needed; sparkling dew was all that remained.

It seemed their departure was in the nick of time, for they ended up flying over an approaching patrol. The wind was loud that they barely heard the surprised gasps and a shout of, “after them!”

The foot soldiers had no chance at keeping up, of course. Not even the fastest elves could hope to chase after the enchanted creatures. The magical horses easily found all the right spots to safely get their riders through the trees. They themselves merely passed through anything that should have clipped a wing here, or caught a hoof there. In mere moments, they were free of the canopy, and charging through the night sky.

At full speed, they would likely catch up to the humans in perhaps forty-five minutes; give or take. That, however, was another forty-five minutes the humans had to make it to the lodge first. Given this was home terrain, Lucca knew the soldiers had the advantage. Which was why he had thought ahead, and had a small pouch tied around his wrist.

From it, he pulled out what appeared to be a blue stone with a white moon sigil painted on it. He closed his eyes to fully picture the clearing from his map that rested between where the humans had left, and the lodging. They should not have made it past there, yet.

“ _Praesidium Locus!_ ” he quietly whispered to the stone. At his command, the white rune softly glowed. In the next second, the entire stone blinked out of existence.

\--

General Amaya lead the charge towards the Banther Lodge. She decided to forgo the round about way of taking the already worn road, and instead lead her platoon through the forest. It was far riskier, which meant their horses could not go their full gallop, but it was a shorter path. Even if it only shaved off a minute or two from taking the road, it was still sixty seconds sooner she would make it to the boys.

It was while they leapt over a small ravine that something caught her eye. She could not tell what it was, only that its mighty call was enough to make the ground quake. It thundered on giant hooves towards them as a massive maw opened to show its three rows of arrow sharp teeth. She swerved her horse out of the way. She trusted in her steed to continue manoeuvring through the trees long enough to glance back at the monster.

It was massive; easily large enough to swallow a horse whole. It was covered in thick brown fur, especially its mane as it almost hid its large, black horns. Its long crocodilian jaw snapped for her troop. Mercifully, those four, tiny white eyes in each socket did not seem to see well as it completely missed. The pair of sabre canines scored into the ground instead. It made up for its terrible eyesight by being able to rear back unnaturally fast. Stamping its great hooves shook the ground hard enough to make the earth quack, and the horse's spook. Some even tripped in their panic. The beast's whip like tail lashed out, and snapped a large tree in half. The mighty oak crashed down dangerously close to Commander Gren.

Amaya narrowed her eyes at the monster. Its speed compared to its mass spoke volumes of magic. She could feel it radiating from the creature the same as the fog from earlier. Something this dangerous that was magical had to be Xadian. Yet, she had never seen, heard of, nor read anything about this potential threat.

Unless it was not normally this dangerous. Probably an illusion mouse, or another of the elves' shape changing pets. She need only find where the true animal hid within the illusion to defeat it.

She guided her horse to charge back towards the monster, and drew her shield. Members of her troop rallied to fight off the creature at her side. She shifted her posture with her sights set on the beast. Its many pupils turned towards her direction.

That many eyes: perhaps that meant there were several pets working together to make one large illusion. It would be difficult to know which parts were real, and could do damage verse those that she could pass right through. The tail had to have some reality to it the way it was snapping brush left and right.

Her horse, however, had no idea it was fake. She could feel the animal tense when the monster turned its open maw towards her. Just when the mount's frighten prey instincts kicked in, and it turned to flee, Amaya leapt from its back. She comfortably fell into a roll to land with her shield raised over her head. Not a second later, dozens of teeth attacked where she had been. Instead of a horse and rider as the thing had expected, it got a mouth full of tree. It was so close to where she crouched that she could smell its breath.

It smelled like flowers.

In fact, she knew that honey sweet scent to be that of some Xadian flower she had never cared to learn the name of. One that, for some reason, most of the fauna tended to avoid despite it not being poisonous. Plus, this beast was not exactly built to be a herbaviour. She only had a moment to consider this as the frustrated creature crunched down on the offending foliage. Large branches tumbled out of the tree.

Corvus' chain weapon made to snag the distracted animal from around one of its legs. Yet, even with a mouth full of tree, it knew to move the correct hoof in time to dodge.

Gren moved in with the aid of two soldiers on either side. Together their swords swung for the exposed underbelly. In the same moment, the creature threw the tree aside, and jumped higher than any soldier's reach.

Not even Amaya's assault on the tail when the beast should have been trying to land its jump had hit. How could they find out what part of it was real if they could not land a hit?!

Distracted with trying to find any indication of the monster's true form, she was shoved aside when another tree was felled. Despite Gren's heroic work, both of their feet would be crushed under the trunk.

If the tree did not pass right through them, that is.

The _tree_ was an illusion? Shape changers only did self shielding images. Wait, the smell from before...

Damn Moonshadow magic, she inwardly cursed.

'It's not a shape shifting animal,' she signed. 'None of it is real!'

She could feel the vibrations of Gren's voice as he bellowed, “The entire thing is fake!”

Like that, the chaos stopped. Trusting in their General, everyone stood their ground. Now that its targets were not evading, the creature seemed to be at a loss on what to do. It snapped, roared, and beat its hooves in the ground, but it did not touch anyone. It made another show of might by lashing down another 'tree' with its tail. There was some flinching, but once it was obvious the 'tree' would fall away from them, no one moved.

She gave a triumphant smirk. Confidently she got up, and walked within range of the crocodilian snout. Squaring her shoulders, she signed, 'I do not fear you.'

Someone must have spoke her words aloud. The entire beast seized up. One could almost say its expression was that of surprise. The colours of both monster and surroundings melted away until only a blue-ish, ghost like image remained. Then, even that seemed to be sucked in to the point that had been the creature's heart. When all was said and done, a single stone fell to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I get the chance to introduce a little more about Lucca. Poor guy keeps getting shoved into the background because Tam and Verrago have such loud personalities in comparison.  
> So, small trivia: In my head cannon, doing primal magic is like competing in sports. You get those with a natural talent for it, those that have trained most of their life in it, those that are casual about it, and those who can't possibly do it no matter how hard they try. Lucca would be considered a casual player. He has it in him that he could be a mage, but he likes being an assassin better. Still has a few neat tricks on hand though :P


	24. Those Who's Hearts Are Assassins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple days late due to internet issues, but here it is! Hope you enjoy.

In any other society, silence in the middle of the night was simply expected. For the moonshadow elves of Silvergrove- like many moonshadow homes- it was odd for so few to be out among the moonlight. Especially since the full moon had only been the night prior. This was not a normal night, however, as families gathered around, and neighbours spoke only in low hushes, for a highly regarded assassin had passed.

It was a sombre blacksmith that fiddled with the metal wiring in hand. Though he would not be able to give the trinket to his beloved on his actual birthday, Ethari was determined to keep his tradition of making Runaan some new ornaments for their shelves to give him upon his return. It helped ease his worries to think of plans for when his husband and their almost-daughter would come home.

 _When_ they got home, he would bake a moonberry surprise; Rayla's favourite.

 _When_ they got home, after a day of rest, they would go together to the meadow for a picnic same as they did every year for Runaan's birthday.

It was only a matter of time. Runaan had done dozens of missions before, and came back to him. He would do so again, Ethari was sure.

For a moment, his eyes moved away from his craftsmanship to linger over the five floating metal flowers. It had been hours since they had done anything but drift along the water's surface. Even the glow of each centre was steady, indicating that, wherever the five of them were, they were calm. The night before, this would have filled his heart with hope that the deed was done, and all was well.

Seamus' sudden death was a harsh reminder that, until they were home, the band was still very much in mortal peril.

He heard approaching footsteps, and looked up to see the familiar sharp features of Rhanona. Runaan and Verrago had been band mates for nearly twelve years, yet the old brew master rarely attended any function outside of proper holidays. In those scarce few occasions, he had likely only spoken with her a handful of times; and that was with one of her grandchildren as a buffer. Not a single mission had she ever visited the heartbloom fountain; not even the initial ceremonies to say goodbye. It was taking a great deal of control not to appear as surprised as he felt to see her here.

She marched with a steady gate, and her head held high, though he knew through word of mouth how scarred her muscles and joints were beneath her Westland purple, and teal attire.

There was a crinkle to her nose as she snipped in a low- for her- volume, “Starin' at those fockin' flowers int gaun ta brin' 'em home faster.”

“Ye're right. But watchin' does help ease my heart,” Ethari kept his voice hushed while he carefully picked his words. He set his work on the fountain ledge to stand, and gave the elder a small bow at his waist befitting her years served during the Westland Wars.

Rhanona scoffed, and the lines in her aged features drew tighter. From her finely embroidered pack, she withdrew a pair of intricately carved cups, and a ceramic jug. The pitcher was roughly shoved towards him in a silent demand. After he respectfully accepted it, she set out the cups beside his craft, then seated herself on the fountain. He did not dare offer out assistance when she gave a mildly pained grunt, and needed to shift her footing to properly seat herself.

Instead, he watched from the corner of his eye as he dutifully uncorked the jug in a single pull. An unfamiliar warm, sweet scent tickled his senses. He filled the first cup nearly half, and passed it off to her before pouring the second. Per tradition, they exchanged cups while meeting the other's gaze.

“Moon's favour,” Ethari titled his glass.

“Slàinte,” she coolly responded with only the tiniest tilt of her own glass. Then she took down a great gulp without care if he was also drinking.

With his tools between them, he also took a seat, and then took a slow swig. Though the flavour was like heated honey plum, it carried a cold spice effect like wintergreen mint. He considered the cup and its contents as the taste lingered on his tongue. “Sweet root?”

She nodded as she also stared off at nothing. “Aye.”

“Did y'u craft this back in Westland?”

Her hard look spoke for her that she was indicating it was a stupid thing to ask. They both knew that sweet root could only be found in Westland without fully going into Earthblood territory. Behind her thin pressed lips he could tell she was grinding her teeth by the way she set her jaw. She looked away, brought her cup up as if intending to drink, but remained that way for several long moments. At a loss for what to say, Ethari distracted himself by taking another drink.

“It's yin o' Tahmas',” she finally answered.

The cup suddenly felt much heavier in his hands. “Ah see...Thank y'u. Ah'm honoured y'u chose ta share this with me.”

Rhanona gave a grumpy huff, “Grow a set, lad. Yer lover is an assassin, fur fock sake. Disnae do ye any favours ta be soft o'er some piss.”

Ethari bite his tongue to keep himself from even tempting a retort. Not that any came to mind, but it was better to caution himself when dealing with this particular elf. After a long period of silence, he started again, “Dand stopped by earlier. He mentioned tha' Catriona has gone inta labour.”

“She had a lad,” she simply stated as she continued to clench and unclench her jaw.

A genuinely soft smile played his lips as he thought of Seumas' family, “Fin will be thrilled, though Ah'm sure Peigi is disappointed ta have another wee brother.”

But Rhanona's only response was a nondescript, 'hn'.

“Do y'u know what the li'le one was named?”

“Seumason.”

He nodded that he had heard because he did not have any comment. It was a fine name. Ethari could understand the sentiment given the spin-seed ride Catriona had faced that night. Yet, he also knew she and Seumas never wanted their children to see battle, let alone become assassins themselves. If he had learned anything from watching Tam, a son bearing his dead father's name often tried to live up to said father's image.

Ethari lifted the pitcher in an offering to Rhanona. She did not say a word, only held out her nearly emptied glass. After topping both of them, he extended his cup to her, “To Seumason. May his father's strength be with him as he grows.”

“And hope that he gets a thicker skin than his Ma,” she added as they exchanged cups once more.

He wanted to point out that Catriona was as much a hardened warrior as Seumas had been, but did not want to turn the slight amicable companionship between them into an argument. Once more they drank in silence. After finishing her cup, she smacked her lips. Her piercing grey-green eyes narrowed at something in the distance. “Speakin' o' soft hearts...”

Ethari's attention turned to the stairs at her words. Running towards them was a young female he only knew through the community, but had never met in person. People tended to talk when any moonshadow child refused to want to learn about any type of weaponry or fighting styles. In his opinion, that had been a blessing to the Grove. Innes' gentle nature had made her exceptionally nurturing, and she had chosen to stay with Grove Haven Orphanage after she came of age. The children certainly enjoyed her presence as anywhere she went, she would always have no less than ten little ones in tow.

This time, however, she was by herself. Her round face was flushed, and she was almost breathless as she delicately took the stairs as fast as she could. Her large, amethyst eyes locked on to him first. She looked beyond frightened that he was already on his feet ready to help by the time she reached them.

“Is it true?” her mousy voice cracked.

“Depends whit the fock ye're askin', lass,” Rhanona retorted as she set her cup down so that she could place her weathered hands in her lap.

Innes suddenly became stiff, and her eyes somehow grew wider. She swiftly gave a full bow from her waist towards the elder. “Ah beg yer forgiveness, Ma'am. Ah heard talk o' the assassins bein' ghosted, and rushed here ta know if it were true.”

A new weight sunk in Ethari's belly, “What?”

“Whit dis it matter ta ye?” There was cold calculation in her eyes as she observed the girl.

Raising from her bow, Innes' mouth opened and shut. More than once her eyes shifted between Rhanona and the heartblooms. A blush coloured her cheeks as she started to fiddle with a silver necklace. He recognized its lunas gem at the heart of the moon rune pendant; it had been one of his crafts that he had done as a favour for Lucca.

The wires entwined in Ethari's thoughts, “Aren' y'u and Lucca the same age?”

A shy smile graced her full lips, “Aye. We grew up together in Grove Haven.”

He did not miss the way Rhanona's jaw clenched tighter as she glared down her nose.

“Ah'm glad ta hear Lucca has kin outside o' the band after all,” he gave her a welcoming smile.

She shied into herself as her pale skin became all the redder.

Were circumstances different, he may have eased into getting to know the matron aide better. The reason for her visit, however, still weighed heavily inside him.

He turned his attention to Rhanona fully suspecting she knew the answer, “Now, wha's this about the band being ghosted?”

She did not disappoint. “They failed their mission at the cost o' yin o' our best.”

“T-tha' can' be right,” Innes softly squeaked.

Rhanona's glare intensified, “Are ye callin' meh a liar?”

“No! A-ah would never... A-ah meant ta say perhaps y'u were, uh, misinformed? T-tha' is...ah mean...the band isn' home yet, so, we don' know the truth...No' tha' Ah doubt the council...” She continued to sputter and fidget from one foot to the other.

The elder harshly cut off her rambling, “They did a fockin' trackin' ritual, lass. It's still respondin' ta the bastart human 'n' his offsprin'.” She gestured towards the heartblooms, “The humans are alive. Five o' the band is still alive. That means they failed, 'n' Seumas died fur no'.” With a final huff she grabbed the jug to refill her cup once more. “It's a disgrace ta the 'Grove, 'n' punishment must be dealt.”

She likely had not intended to sound defeated as she said that last sentence. Against the sharp edges of her brash nature, Ethari's heart went out to the old elf. Like him, her entire world was with the surviving members of the band. His heartbroken gaze zeroed in on Runaan's flower. He knew in his soul something had to have gone wrong; Runaan would never give up on a mission. Not unless there had been no other choice.

Rayla's flower floating close by caught his attention. After what happened with her parents, she would be devastated to learn she would be ghosted herself. She was far too young to be faced with such a consequence.

Banishing the two of them... Banishing the surviving band members at all when they did not know the whole truth did not feel right. Rhanona was right, however. A failed assassination to this magnitude, lead by the County's Guild leader, was a disgrace on the entire Silvergrove. The Council would need to do something to satisfy this injustice or risk their people being ostracized from the rest of Xadia. He knew the stories of elves being imprisoned within their own villages, and magic itself cut off from them... it was no wonder there was already talk.

Ethari lowered his head as he clenched his fist. He had thought he was prepared for the possibility of loosing them to this mission, but not like this. Not banishment.

“What if they've been captured?” Innes insisted.

“Then it would be an even greater slight on their honour.” Though his words were true, they did nothing to ease his inner pain. The idea of either Rayla or Runaan in chains left to waste away inside some human prison was worse than a dagger to the chest.

“But this is different!” Then Innes seemed to realize she had lost herself, and covered her mouth with he hand. She met his gaze with frightened eyes, but all he could see was the moisture lingered there. He hoped she would not begin to cry in earnest; he doubted he would be able to remain strong if she did.

Rhanona's gave a disgruntled 'hn'.

“Please,” Innes whimpered. “They're the best assassins o' the age, but these humans have dark magic like none before. Wha' if there was a trap no elf could have foresee?” Her voice shuttered as she desperately held her necklace. “Wha' if they're bein' kept alive ta later be used as ingredients?”

For one horrifying heartbeat, Ethari's thoughts conjured an image of Runaan cruelly having his horns removed while Rayla could only watch on. The moonlight glistening on the three gemstone eyes of his trinket made his gut twist. He wondered what manner of torture his beloved was facing while he was sitting here designing the wire nightfox thinking about when they would come home.

Suddenly, Rhanona clicked her tongue. When he curiously looked up, he noticed that she too was looking down at the wire ornament. She took the unfinished nightfox in hand to give it a closer look. “In the Westland, hunters would find these wee bastards by trackin' their magic.” Giving him a meaningful look, she cocked an eyebrow. “Do ye Silvers hae somethin' like that?”

He glanced between the little creature, and the brew master. “We do.”

“Could it be used on yin o' those,” she tilted her head towards the fountain.

The gears started turning in his head. Ethari was not a mage, but he knew plenty of spells thanks to his work. He had needed to learn the signature tracker in order to manipulate it so he could bind both Lain and Tiadrin's magical weapons to their personal arcanums.

“How would tha' help?” Innes' thin eyebrows scrunched. “We already know where they are.”

Rhanona shot the younger elf a fresh glare. “Hae ye got a brain, lass? We know frae the flower that Seumas is dead. His magic should be dead too, but if it int...” She trailed off clearly intending for Innes to put the rest of the pieces together herself.

The young caretaker's features lit up with understanding, “It would mean he's been used for dark magic.”

“ 'N' that shite lingers,” She gave a firm nod, then addressed Ethari once more. “Whit do ye need?”

He considered the fountain, and the unseen sunken heartbloom. There was the spell that would allow him to go into the water without damaging the spell looking over the remaining. Then there was another he would need to cast to ensure the fallen bloom still carried Seumas' signature. Finally the tracking spell itself, and preparing the correct runes...

“Time,” he answered in a far off voice. “Perhaps a day, at most.”

“Best get ta it, then.” Rhanona lifted herself from her seat. Ethari had been mindful enough not to instinctively reach out to help, again, but Innes had not know any better. Her extended arm was roughly shoved away. Meeting the other female eye to eye, the elder hissed, “As fur ye, ye're comin' with meh.”

Innes flinched, “Meh? Ta where?”

“Ta bend some councillors' ears, o' course,” she did not bother waiting as she started marching in the direction of the town square.

Innes hesitated long enough to give Ethari a terrified silent plea for help.

Though humour twinkled in his eyes, he made sure to give her a kind smile, “Go on. It'll help Lucca.”

She visibly gulped, but nodded regardless.

“Get yer arse movin' lassie!”

Innes peeped a small 'eep' as she had to force her limbs to unfreeze in order to scurry after the ornery old elf.

Once more left in solitude, Ethari did not waste a second hurrying to his workshop. Not long after he had, four metal flower began to flicker and bob. As the waves they created rocked the fifth flower, a creeping sense of unease filled its owner's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so used to writing dialogue heavy characters that Rhanona had actually been a challenge. But I'm quite happy with how she and Innes had turned out in the end. What do you guys think?  
> As always, thank you all so much for your patience, for reading, and for all your feedback and support. Truly you all keep me writing <3


	25. The Chase pt2

A chill ran up Lucca's spine, and his jaw dropped. The fact he was visibly surprised at all had the siblings exchanging a look.

“Whit's wrong?” Verrago spoke first.

Lucca returned to a stoic front, and kept his voice neutral, “Ah sent a fear illusion, when we left, ta slow the humans ahead o' us. Ah just got the signal tha' it has been dispelled.”

“That didnae gie us a lot o' fockin' time, did it?” Verrago tapped her fingers on her saddle.

“We'll probably have ta engage combat before we reach the Princes,” his eyes were focused ahead while his face became gravely serious.

“Ye hae another yin o' those rocks, mate?” Tam piped up.

Lucca quirked his brow with the inquiry, “Ah thought y'u didn' know illusion magic.”

“He disnae,” Verrago dead-panned. She gave her brother a look that dared him to pretend otherwise.

“Ah dinnae need it fur illusion magic,” he snipped. “Ah just need a fockin' rock.”

“Wha' do y'u need it for?”

“Ah'll show ye if ye would just gie me a fockin' stone,” he grumbled back. Then, he moved his stallion closer, and expectantly held out his hand.

Lucca momentarily looked to Verrago for any idea what he was up to. She, however, was eyeing her brother also trying to decipher what he was planning. Looking back at the younger elf, he noted Tam was not wearing his usual gleeful grin when he was about to play a prank. In fact, he was mission level serious. Whatever he was planning, it was with real intent to help their cause.

He dipped his hand into the pouch, and tossed a stone. “Use it wisely. Ah only have so many.”

Tam easily caught the blue rock, “Ye winnae need ta use any others after Ah'm done.”

The other two watched on as he drew one of his hand knives. He then pressed the tip against the raw flesh around his elbow. It created a tiny slice that brought an equally small amount of blood to the surface. He coated the metal tip like it was a quill in ink, then, on the back side of the stone, started drawing. When he was finished, the rune looked like a '4' on its back with a parallel line to the longest part running through the triangle part. He placed his knife away, then stuck his thumb onto his elbow to collect a few more drops from the cut. Once coated enough, he carefully made a stamp of his thumbprint over the entire rune.

“ _Le m ’fhuil, tha mi a’ gairm air cnàmhan fiadhaich o chionn fhada gus an nàmhaid a bhualadh_.”

Verrago's eyes became larger than the moon with those words.

He lifted his thumb, and every space that bore blood steadily started to radiate. “Quick. Send it ta where ye sent the other yin,” he tossed the stone back to Lucca.

He caught the rock as easily as Tam had. When he opened his palm to see it, he was blasted with the earthy scent of dew and moss. A number of questions lingered on his tongue as he got a good look at the rune. The light it cast, however, was clearly growing brighter. Lucca turned it so the moon rune was face up. Once more, he focused on the clearing ahead of them same as before.

“ _Praesidium Locus!_ ”

Just as the red light was starting to reach blinding levels, the stone vanished.

\--

It was Corvus who approached the thing that had fallen from the illusion monster. Laying in the grass was a blue coloured stone that had split down the middle. Picking up the two halves, he inspected them as footsteps approached. On the other side was what remained of the painted image he knew to be the symbol of moon magic. Wordlessly, he handed the pieces to General Amaya.

He took a moment to observe the changed setting. They stood in a clearing that was mostly mud and young brush. This close the the river, he suspected it had been logged by the lumber mill in the past three or four years. Though it had been a long time since he had last been anywhere near this part of the King's forest, it gave him a vague idea of how far they were from the Banther Lodge. As a fellow soldier handed him the reins to his horse, Corvus also noted the ravine that had slowed them was also gone.

“It's moonshadow protection magic,” Amaya's confirmation returned Corvus' attention to Commander and General. “Someone is trying to keep us from reaching the lodge.”

“Someone that knows where we are,” Corvus agreed. “This is not close enough to the road or river for anyone to think of placing it here ahead of time.”

General Amaya set her jaw as she nodded, “This may mean that the Princes' are in danger. We need to move faster if we are going to get to them before daybreak.”

The team was quick to gather their horses, and remount. It was just as Amaya was guiding her horse to lead the charge once more that there was a sudden, blinding flash of red light. Corvus grit his teeth as he fought to keep his horse steady while also covering his eyes. Through the numerous surprised shouts, and panicked whinnying, it was hard to hear if they were under attack. He could, however, feel the moment the air grew thick with magic. It was powerful enough that if felt as if the temperature had risen several degrees; as though he was at the breech once again.

Corvus blinked several times trying to see what was happening. The red light was still shining as it pulsed with energy.

_Crack!_

He was thrown from his horse as the animal lost its footing. The ground was a lot farther down than it should have been. Thankfully, the fall was only enough to rattle him instead of break anything. Behind his eyelids, he could tell it was dark. The world was loud with cracking stone, and shifting earth. He dared to once again try opening his eyes.

It was blurry at first, but he could see red light over the lip of the new crevasse he rested at the bottom of. All around, rocks, mud, and leaves were being pulled inward towards it. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat as his fingers dug into the earth. He had to remind himself that this was not a twister, or anything of that sort. There was no wind, and he would have been pulled towards it to. Only the earth was being moved for this magic.

That was when he realized that meant magic was building something. Fearful for his comrades, he jumped to his feet so that he could see over the ledge. He found himself face to face with coal black eyes and an earthen made snout.

\--

The three elves watched the light show in the distance. A proud grin covered Tam's face... until his sister promptly swatted him.

“Whit the fock was that fur?” he glared as he rubbed the sore spot.

“Wye didnae ye tell meh ye could do Earth magic?” she growled back.

“Keep the heid. It's just the yin spell.”

“Still means ye can do it. Do ye realize how hard it is ta grow fiddle wart withoot Earth magic? 'N' here ye are hauldin' oot on meh!”

Lucca knit his brow as he tried to keep his voice even, and not give away his amazement, “ _How_ are y'u able ta do Earth magic? Ye're a _moonshadow_ elf.”

Looking over to their puzzled companion, Tam smirked, “Mate...Did ye really just ask a Westie how he can do earth magic?”

Lucca scoffed, “Ah know yer bloodline is half earthblood, but ye were born with moon arcanum. Moon _magic_ ,” he clarified upon Tam's confused look. “Y'u shouldn' be able ta do Earth magic.”

“That's a load o' shite. Gran is always on aboot how Da was a moonshadow that used earth magic,” Tam glanced at Verrago. “That was how he used ta make his knives, int it?

“Aye,” Verrago nodded, equally baffled. “Yer holster was his makin'.” Then she gain a thoughtful look. “Ah suppose that's wye folks back in Westland used ta ask if Ah could do earth magic, ken?”

Tam shrugged, and turned his attention back to Lucca, “Yer the yin that knows this shite.”

At a loss for a response, Lucca snapped his mouth shut and once more looked off towards where the spell had activated. He silently mused to himself while blocking out the siblings' conversation. A moonshadow elf being able to do earth magic... it was unheard of! It did not even appear to be a case of an elf having one arcanum, but looked like a different due to their heritage like some cross-elf children did, because Tam could use moon stealth. To make matters more frustrating, Tam did not even seem to know how impossible his multiple arcanum was!

After only a handful of minutes where his thoughts kept going in circles, he cut in, “Do y'u at least know what tha' spell does?”

“Fock aff. O' course, Ah know whit it does,” Tam spat back with a glare.

Ignoring the other elf's tone, Lucca pressed further, “And?”

“It summons wild yins ta fight.”

Lucca narrowed his eyes on a flock in the distance. “Then why are the birds flyin' away rather than goin' towards the battle?”

It was Verrago that spoke up with a warning edge in her tone, “Will ye gie it a rest. Ye're just sour that Tam did a spell that saved our arses when ye're suppose ta be the mage o' the ba-”

The end of her words were drowned out by a wailing screech. It was far worse than claws on slate stone. If anything, it was the kind of sound that burrowed into one's skull, and clung to one's nightmares. All three elves had to cover their ears to keep the horrid noise from rupturing their sensitive eardrums.

“Fock. Ne'er heard somethin' like that before,” Verrago grumbled after uncovering her ears.

Lucca, however, was giving Tam a hard, judgmental stare, “Tha' spell... did it happen ta include anythin' abou' _ancient_ wilds?”

He did not answer, but the defensiveness in his posture was telling enough.

Verrago's gazed snapped back and forth between them before finally narrowing in on her brother, “Whit did ye do?”

“Whit the fock? Whit happened ta ye bein' glad Ah can do earth magic?” he childishly snipped back.

“Moon's mercy,” Lucca sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “Do y'u two know what the draocani are?”

“Aye,” Verrago's voice was unsteady as a chill crawled over her skin.

Meeting her eyes, Lucca smoothly explained, “ _Those_ are the ancient wilds.”

The brother-sister duo never looked more similar than just then as the colour drained from their faces.

“Fockin' shite...” Tam mumbled.

\--

Corvus had to leap to the side to evade yet another snap of teeth. It was fortunate his chain held a second one of these beasts by its feet, or he would have been in the perfect spot for it to use its large, sharp claws.

The remaining five troops were backed into one another to form a protective circle. His gut twisted at the squelching noise made from several of these creatures feeding on one of his fallen comrades. Said soldier had made the mistake of thinking these were illusions like the last monster, and had not moved. Whatever these creatures were, they were very much alive, and looking for blood.

His mind raced to figure out how to beat these monsters. Since they were made of stone, their weapons could not pierce the hide. They bobbed and weaved on two legs in a way that reminded him of chickens. Except they also had the strength and balance to use their front limbs to charge when they wanted. An attack that, as one poor soul had the misfortune of learning, was to be avoided lest one wished to have their bones shattered against the creature's crown.

If these things were larger, had wings, and were living instead of stone, he would almost believe he were fighting bipedal dragons. Which, much to the humans' disadvantage, for one of the beasts this included...

“Look out!”

 _Fwoosh_!

The group was forced apart as a canon of fire launched out from the maw of the largest golem. They were lucky to evade this time. The blast instead crashed into an old fir. The tree's needles easily caught, and in seconds its branches followed to match several other blazing foliage. The field was fast filling with smoke as more and more brush was catching. They were caught between fire, and earth without a prayer for escape.

Amaya braced with her shield when a smaller one tried to attack an exposed soldier. This left her open to a tail swipe from the next closest. It knocked against her back, but thanks to the other one trying to claw past her shield, she was able to stay standing.

Corvus knew she needed someone to defend her back from another attack. Yet, he could not risk simply letting free the tangled one. Frustrated, he let the other one charge for him again. When it did, he moved as quick as he could to both dodge, and spin the loose side of his chain several times around its crown and neck.

The creature was faster, however, and rammed him from the side. Unable to catch his footing, Corvus was thrown back to the ground dangerously close to the latest tree that had been set aflame. The monster rounded before he had even fully hit the ground. The shock of his bruised ribs did not have time to fade before that beast's lethal foot claw stabbed into his hip. The weight of the thing as it leaned in for the kill effectively kept him pinned down.

Fighting the dread, he reached around him for anything that could be used as a weapon. Even just a stick to keep it's jaws from biting him.

He did touch something, but it was not a stick; nor was it a rock or fallen sword. Beneath his fingers, he knew without looking it was a hoof. He grabbed on and hoped pulling the dead animal would give him some leverage to avoid the worst of the coming attack... except the limb came to him.

He could feel it still has some weight behind it as it was dragged closer. With no other option, and no time to find something else, he swung like he was wielding a massive club. What was left of the haunch hit the side of the creature's head. It was enough to surprise the beast, but then it instinctively turned to attack what had attacked it. Once it seemed to register that it was chomping into meat, it completely ignored him, even going so far as to step off him so it could tug the limb away.

Corvus held tight. The creature was not tall enough to pull him to his feet, but it was enough to sit him up. He gave a hard pull with all his might to encourage the thing to keep backing up to take it from him. This nearly back lashed when it did pull back, and almost dragged him face forward. As fortune would have it, the combined pulling, and the beast's fangs caused its side of the horse leg to tear away. It greedily gulped down the meat. Then, once more, its eyes were on Corvus.

More specifically, it was on what he held.

Hoping the creature would choose to fetch, he twisted his body with all his might. Like a champion hammer thrower, he launched the haunch off into the burning forest. By the mercy of the paragon, the golem charged after it. Further more, though it had one leg free, the beast on the other side of his chain was still attached due to the grappling hook. It screeched the whole time its distracted brethren dragged it along with it.

His relief was short lived when he heard the now familiar gurgling before the big one released its fire. He had no time to look for it to know where it would attack. Taking a chance, he braced his arms around his head, and rolled to the side.

_Fwoosh!_

_Snap!_

Through the cackling fire, a mighty tree groaned as it came down. The blast had been no danger to Corvus, after all, but a charred fir did come crashing down where he had been. He was not given the chance to right himself when he was suddenly snagged by his wrist. He pulled away, until he realized it was one of his troop instead of a beast. He let the other soldier guide him in a crawl to one of the rivets in the ground while he held his stab wound. Fire tongue licked dangerous close to them, but they also acted as cover from the confused golems. The blaze roared and rumbled in his ears that he swore it sounded like thunder.

As they squeezed into the shelter, he realized Amaya was already there coaxing them in. She grabbed him to help ease him into the space a bit more quickly. He was relieved to see that his General was unharmed. Her shield was not with her, and there was a nasty slash in her helmet telling of a close call, but her armour had done its job in protecting her.

Once all three were in the tight space, she began to sign, 'We need to get to the river. I doubt those rocks can swim.'

Though he followed along easily with what she signed, he had also been instinctively waiting to hear Gren speak for her.

Except the spunky Commander was not with them. Come to think of it, he had not seen Gren at all since the creatures first appeared. Thankfully, he could not recall the young man being one of the bodies, either. He sent out a silent hope that his dear friend was alright, and then turned his full focus back to surviving, as well.

'Can you run?' though battle hardened, he knew Amaya well enough to notice the slight softening in her eyes to give away she was worried.

Moving his hand, he looked down at his own wound. It was deep, and blood was fast pooling from his hip. Through the pain though, he was lucky that the joint was still functional. Signing back, he answered, 'I will make it. Just give the order when.'

With a nod that she trusted his judgment, Amaya dared to peer over the ledge. She was not attacked. Carefully, she raised her hand in a motion to tell them to wait. It could have been one second or one hundred, but the trio waited with baited breath. He did not even move to wipe the sweat from his brow; not even when the moisture was start to drip over his face.

Then, over the roar of fire, he swore he could hear horses whining from overhead. A pale light in the dark sky snagged his attention. It was only a brief glimpse that he could not be sure he had seen what he saw... until they circled around.

It suddenly felt difficult for him to swallow. Injured, cornered, and without weapons... Twenty felt like such a young age to die. Yet, a soldier knew death came for all sooner or later. His, it seemed, was charging in on an ethereal winged horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this chapter up! I've been re-writing these next couple chapters so much that I forgot this one was officially ready. Sadly this means the next chap may be a bit, but hopefully not too long.  
> As always, I hope you enjoyed!


	26. Forsaken Souls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!  
> I was able to get a lot of writing done over the last week so that I could give you guys as many chapters as I can as a present. So, today you're getting not 1. Not 2. But 3! Chapters in one update. Please enjoy :)

At such a late hour, and most mourners at the Valley of the Dead, Opeli was alone inside the temple tower. She had meant to return to her duties of prayer for the Night Vigil, but her visit with King Harrow, and her concern for Claudia's mortal soul saw her steps lead her here first. So deeply troubled in her own thoughts, she had not realized she had reached the hallowed space until the soft perfumes of the temple gardens tickled her senses.

She paused a moment at the door. Since the first day she had entered this place, even back when she was simply a young acolyte, she had always felt the magnitude of holy power here. It had been like a physical presence that lingered within. It had always brought her calm, and had strengthened her faith to feel the Lords and Ladies looking down upon her.

Tonight, however, that feeling was not there.

Perhaps it was because how dark the space was without its torches lite. It was perfectly logical since they were only ever dosed during a mass Vigil like tonight. That did not feel like the reason to her, though. The moon had long past it apex, but it did still provide its light through the stain glass roof. There was also the central pedestal with its six tiers covered in small, prayer candles; more than half of which were still lit.

Opeli forced herself to keep her breath even. She placed one foot in front of the other as she normally would, but the deeper into the temple she travelled, the more something felt horribly wrong. By the time she had stopped before the pedestal, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Her eyes turned up towards the polished statues that lined the walls.

The Lord of Protection: a giant warrior known for his sun given shield to chase away the darkness in the world.

The Lady of Justice: a lithe, blindfolded woman that boldly held her scales out in one hand, and her sword at the ready.

The Lady of Dreams: Her four great wings outstretched, and her lovely face turned to the sky with a content far off look while she strummed her lute.

The Lord of Fortune: The night sky made up his hooded cloak as his hidden features were entirely focus on the hourglass before him.

The Lord of Bounty: A portly, jolly being seated upon a cornucopia of harvest goods with various creatures native to Katolis surrounding him.

Finally was The Lady of Reflection: Though Her image was that of a young child wearing a coral crown, the mosaic that was the 'pool' she looked into held the shimmering image of a grown woman.

As High Cleric, she knew each of them in detail. It was obvious to her that nothing had been disturbed, stolen, or vandalized. Why then did it feel like the priceless works had been replaced by forgeries? Shaking her head, she reached into one of the baskets resting near the pedestal to gather a long, thin piece of wood. She then carefully reached to place the end in the stone basin atop the podium. Normally a low fire was kept inside the basin, but it seemed it had been neglected that only a few hot coals remained. Fortunately, it was still enough to light the match stick with only a little prodding.

She was about to light a candle when she caught the tail end of a hurried conversation drifted in from the hallway. “... checked the body myself.”

Naturally, she recognized the voice to belong to one of the Acolytes. Opeli made a quick flick of her wrist to dose the tiny flame. It was through muscle memory that she easily tossed it into the water bucket despite how far away her focus was. She had not even registered the tiny plop of it touching down before she was rushing out the door.

“Why would anyone want to steal it? I'm telling you its a trap!”

As soon as she rounded the corner she came face to face with the pair of acolytes. The teenagers stopped in their tracks upon seeing her. Their mouths clamped shut, and both eyes were wide with fright.

The older of the two- a lanky sixteen year old- spoke first, “Lady Opeli. We weren't expecting you back so early.”

She narrowed her gaze on them, “Did I just hear there is a body missing?”

The younger boy- no older than twelve- shrank away from her firm tone, “The elf is gone, Ma'am. I think the King is in danger.”

The first rolled his eyes, “Elves can't come back from the dead. Someone stole it because _you_ hadn't been watching for corpse thieves.”

“Of course it didn't come back from the dead. It used its magic to make us think it was dead,” the younger acolyte quickly retaliated.

“Both of you stop,” she raised her hand in a 'stop' motion. Several questions itched at the edge of her thoughts, but she knew there was no time to get to the bottom of this. She did not know about any sort of spells that could make someone appear dead even to the best trained morticians. There was, however, several herbal concoctions that could do the trick. “How long has this elf been missing?”

“We're not sure,” the older glared at the younger. “Someone fell asleep around the first hour of their watch.”

It was at least encouraging that the younger boy had the good sense to look ashamed.

Opeli tried to not show her frustrations as she slowly breathed out through her nose. It was not the boy's fault; it had been a long day for the entire clergy, and he would not be the first acolyte to fall asleep during important duties. Under normal circumstances, he would have had his mentor with him. But with so many vigils needing to be done in one night, there were hardly enough to cover all the necessary prayers before sunrise, and evidently, grave thieves had taken full advantage.

“Were any other bodies taken?”

The older acolyte shook his head, “The usual personal stuff, but just the one body, Ma'am.”

Opeli's clenched her fist to control her rage. Given the events of the night, there was already one name in her thoughts that would be cruel enough to desecrate a body's final rites. The fact this was an elf body only confirmed her suspicions. She could not ignore the acolyte's theory, though, or the fact that if it was stolen, the thieves might still be around.

Pointedly looking at the older first, she ordered, “Go back to the morgue, and keep watch for the thieves in case they return. I will send some guards to assist you.”

He nodded before making an about face, and racing back the way he had come.

Next her attention focused on the younger that remained, “Alert the guards that the body is missing, and then send for Lord Viren. Do _not_ tell him what for, just that the King and I need his council, and that he is to meet us at the King's chambers.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” he swiftly answered, but did not move an inch.

She narrowed her eyes, “Now, Acolyte.”

The small boy squeaked, but raced off to fulfill her directions. With both boys out of her sight, she too ran to her own mission. Many of the halls were hardly lit, but she still easily found her way through various passages until she finally reached the stairs leading up to the King's tower. It annoyed her to see the Crown guard was not as alert as they should be while on duty.

“Wake the castle!” her sharp bark shook the soldier to attention. “We may have an assassin on the loose in the castle.”

Despite the exhausted bags beneath the guards eyes, they saluted with their fist over their heart. Their voice raised to echo in the courtyard, “Sound the alarms!”

Someone had heard him, as they too began to shout, “Sound the alarms!”

The third call, however, was cut off from a noise that was like thunder cracking directly beside them. An unholy feeling caused Opeli to freeze. The way the soldier shuddered proved they felt it too. She watch the guard look up with growing terror in their eyes. Instinctively she whipped around to see what they were seeing. Before her eyes, dark energy was flashing from several windows near the top of the Mage's tower. The bricks around each widow appeared to blacken and rot. Immediately after, there was a pulse of dark energy... followed by a second, and a third. Each wave carried with it a growing sense of, well, wrong. There was no other word for it. Wrong, and cruel, and painful, and... Was this why the paragon had forsaken them?

It suddenly became very difficult to swallow her saliva. Dragging what courage she had out, she pushed forward to head up the King's tower. Even if Viren was awakening the will of the Lord of Shadows onto the castle as that very moment, she had to reach the King; if for no other reason than to hopefully save his mortal soul.

\--

_Bang!_

Soren slammed his shoulder against the wood of his father's chambers. Even with all his force, the door would not budge. It moaned from whatever was happening inside, lights flashed through crevasses from within, and the air seemed to cackle with dark energy at his failed attempts. Above it all, his dad's agonized screams continued to pierce through his soul.

“Soren, stop,” one of the guards that had gathered to the commotion spoke up.

This had been going for nearly thirty minutes already. Those that had arrived to assist had already tried several ways to get inside. Not even using a massive battering hammer proved any help getting inside.

“No!” he slammed against the door, again. “I have to save him!”

He desperately tried again, even if it meant bruising his shoulder further. There was no telling what was happening to his father, but he would not standby to let it happen. He would not fail him like he had failed Claudia.

Then, all at once everything stopped to a deafening silence. Soren froze waiting for some indication that everything was okay. Nothing. Behind him, people were exchanging uncertain looks.

Unable to handle the silence any longer, he called out, “Dad?”

 _Click_. Despite the sound of the handle being pressed, the doors did not open. Maybe it was a sign that whatever had locked everyone out was gone now. He tested his theory by grasping the handle. It easily gave under his thumb, so he hurried to shove the door open. All the lights were dosed, but with how much moonlight shown from outside in, one could still clearly make out that the room was in complete disarray. The windows had apparently shattered at some point, the mirror lay in pieces on the ground, and the decor that was not broken was heavily bent or damaged. Whatever had been made from wood was now rotting heaps, and all fabrics looked moth eaten and mouldy. The worst was the ritual circle at the centre of the room; it was covered with such a grizzly seen that Soren had to cover his mouth with his fist to keep himself from vomiting. By the sounds of it, someone behind him- probably that clergy kid- had not been able to keep their stomach contents down.

Kneeling before the gore was a heavily panting, hunched over figure.

Soren licked his dry lips, “Dad?”

“A moment, son.” Though horsed, it was indeed his father's voice. But... his dad did not have legs anymore the last he has seen him. How... how did he have legs again?

This was not a case of Soren not being able to put together the pieces, though. The answer was simply too horrifying to be right. He knew his dad to have dipped into some pretty dark things before, but this... he could not have. Could he?

But then Lord Viren staggered to his new feet. He held his staff in his left hand, as he always did. A hand that notably only had four digits, and was paler than the dark mage's skin tone. He took a deep breath as if he had just stepped outside on a beautiful Spring day, even though the room smelled of ash and mould. When he turned around, everyone gasped. The bandages that had been on his face were gone to revealed a new eye that glowed when it caught the moonlight.

“Dad... what did you do?” His stomach lurched once again seeing what remained within the circle.

Lord Viren's proud grin instantly shifted to a frown, “Are you not glad to see that I'm better?”

“Well, yeah,” Soren awkwardly shuffled in place. “But...”

His nostrils flared as he exhaled, “Please tell me that you, at least, have ensured no one moved your sister.”

As the guilt welled up, he could no longer meet his father's eyes. Lord Viren scoffed as he shoved past Soren and the other guards present. They made the short walk down the hall and around the corner to his still opened study. Soren did not say a word as he followed the renewed dark mage to the door, but then stopped just inside. It felt like mid-winter in there to the point he was surprised his breath was not misting. Apparently, the residue from the dark ritual had tainted all the way to this room. Not that Viren had noticed.

He calmly approached his daughter's still form unbothered by the lingering energy. For a moment, he paused to lift something from the table, which Soren learned was one of the Vigil candles he had left out. The man gave his son a hard, disapproving stare over his shoulder that made him feel like he was a little kid, again. It was humiliating; even more so with so many of his fellow crown guard gathering at the door.

Everyone watched and exchanged low whispers as Viren drew something from one of his shelves, and then raised both hands over Claudia. Maybe it was his imagination, but, to Soren, the air felt like it was growing thicker with each dark magic syllable Viren spoke.

This was wrong. Everything felt horrible, and fear was trying to crowd his heart with every long shadow the room cast. Seeing what his father had done to help himself, Soren did not dare to think about what he would do to 'save' Claudia. He had to do something, but... what? Instinctively he reached to place his hand on the hilt of his sword, hoping to intimidate him, but found only air. Looking down, he remembered he was not carrying it, nor was he wearing his armour.

It was probably for the better, he mused. His father would have called his bluff in seconds.

But he had to do something!

As he stood there, torn on what to do, whatever Viren had grabbed began to glow in his hand. That sickly yellow glow seeped down from his hand like a waterfall, and rushed to cover Claudia's prone form. Just when Soren started to gather enough courage to consider tackling his father, there was the loud approach of footsteps from the hallway.

“Viren! Stop!” King Harrow's voice roared as he charged into the room. But then he, and those following him, stopped in their tracks.

His orders had come too late; the spell was already complete. The mist engulfed Claudia before sinking into her leaving only the uneasy feeling in the air as proof that it had been done. Viren casually tossed aside the ashen remnants of his spell ingredient, and then turned to greet the King.

“Good morning, your Majesty. I hope you were able to get some rest this evening.”

King Harrow, however, was clenching his fist. “What did you do, Viren?” he growled.

“Just now?” he coyly asked while placing his new hand on the edge of the casket. “It was a simple status spell to ensure her body keeps while I prepare what I need to in order to revive her.”

“You can't bring back the dead!” Opeli snapped, but King Harrow raised his hand to silence her from any further outburst.

His eyes narrowed towards Viren's obviously elven hand, “The elf that had died in prison. Did you use his remains for your dark magic?”

Meeting those cold words with his own, Viren answered, “I needed new limbs, and he wasn't using them anymore.”

“Where did you leave the rest of him?”

He raised a brow at the question, “What I haven't yet used is still on the floor of my personal chambers.”

“Opeli. Please see to the remains,” King Harrow ordered without taking his eyes off the dark mage.

The High Cleric bowed, and headed off down the room. Though still looking sick, the young acolyte followed her. Soren would have preferred to go with them, too, than continue standing there with the King and the High Mage caught in a stare down.

Finally, King Harrow broke the stand off. “Lord Viren. You have committed crimes against the crown of Katolis though interrupting a sacred Night Vigil, and the desecration of bodies.”

All of Viren's coy demeanour vanished, and his jaw dropped open, “What?!”

But the King did not stop speaking. In fact, he became louder and more firm, “For these crimes, I am hereby striping you of your Lordship, as well as all lands and privileges that come with it. You will also serve twenty-eight days imprisonment before being granted a court trial. Any further crimes will be addressed at that trial, and at that time you may plead your innocence.” Then, for the first time since entering, he looked away, but only to address the guards behind him. “Arrest him.”

“What?! How dare you!” Viren yowled as he was forcibly shackled. “After everything I've done for you and this kingdom!”

“It's because of what you have done that I am not having you and your lineage executed under the Treaty of the Pentarchy,” King Harrow evenly retaliated.

Soren's breath caught in his throat. It had slipped his mind that desecration of an enemy's body was considered a war crime. True, Xadia was not part of the Treaty, but since war crimes reflected on the royal family, his dad had basically committed treason. The punishment for which could be life imprisonment or death to the one that committed the crime _and_ their family members.

“Speaking of,” Soren's eyes once again snapped to focus on the King, and discovered he was look at him. “Sir Soren, did you assist your father in stealing the body from the morgue?”

“N-no,” he shook his head, completely bewildered. Blame it on exhaustion or shock, or both, but his head did not want to register what was actually happening. It had to be some sort of strange nightmare.

“He had nothing to do with this!” Viren struggled against his shackles while the guards were forcing him out.

Still, the King pressed on with his questions, “Were you aware of his plans to use the deceased's remains for dark magic?”

“Of course, he didn't!” a guard rammed their fist into Viren's gut, effectively silencing him.

“Dad!” He unintentionally stepped forward to aid his father, but another soldier's battle axe blocked him.

“Soren. Were you aware of his plans to use the deceased's corpse for dark magic?” King Harrow bluntly repeated.

“No!” A wide-eyed Soren barked back. His head shot between meeting the King's eyes, and watching his father being dragged away to the dungeon. If this was a nightmare, he would gladly wake up any time now. “He just told me to watch over Claudia, and then he went to go talk to one of his friends.”

Before his eyes, some of the tension eased from the King's shoulders. “Do you know the name of this friend?”

“I don't know. I've never met her. I just know she's some Noodloodia woman that gets him stuff for his magic,” he continued to ramble. He could not stop the sickly feeling that he had been only a few doors down when his father had been paying someone to steal a corpse, of all things. Right out of Katolis' crypts, at that!

“Very well. As a sworn crown guard to my court, I trust what you are saying is the truth. I withhold my judgment, but you will be considered pardon of your father's crimes unless evidence arises that contradict your innocence.” Then King Harrow's features softened, and all edge left his voice as he added. “I also want you to know that I will not consider it an admission of guilt if you decide you wish to leave Katolis after your sister is properly laid to rest.”

For several seconds, Soren stood with his jaw hung open. All the while, King Harrow seemed to be patiently waiting for a response. Except, what was he supposed to say?! 'Okay'? 'Cool'? 'Thanks'? It felt completely ridiculous. A spark in him wanted to be angry, but at who? The King for carrying out the laws? His dad for preforming dark magic to heal himself? Truthfully, if he was angry with anyone, it was himself for being too much of a coward that someone else had to step in to protect his sister's soul, again. His head was swirling, his chest was tight, and he was pretty sure his eyes were starting to sting from the ambient dark magic.

Then, King Harrow reached out and firmly grasped his shoulder. “It has been a long few days for us all. Please, go get some rest. We will further discus what to do in regards to Claudia in the morning.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Soren numbly nodded his head. Unwittingly, he turned his attention to the casket. She would be okay, he realized. He no longer had to worry if Dad bringing her back would be a bad thing or not. The paragon had seen to it that Viren never go the chance to try. Despite having no proof, he felt like Claudia herself had something to do with this. Even from the other side, she had known just what to do.

“Can-” but his voice squeaked, so Soren cleared his throat before trying again. “Can I have a few more minutes?”

“You have as long as you need,” King Harrow spoke reassuringly. He gave Soren's shoulder a supportive squeeze, and then turned his attention to those remaining.

Whatever he said, Soren tuned him out. Instead, he drug himself back to the chair he had been seated at before. With the air still thick with the wrong-ness of their father's dark ritual, it felt important to stick near her... at least until dawn. The ceremonial candle that had been lit before he had rushed out had burned out, so he grabbed a new one, switched them out, and lit it. There he would stay. When a guard came to check on him a few hours later, he would be found fast asleep with his head in his arms on the desk.

\--

After excusing the guards to return to what they were doing before the alarm had been raised, King Harrow decided to forego returning to bed just yet. He had underestimated Viren... No, he had known what the man was capable of. The truth is that he had chosen to ignore the problem, and thus needed to see the results of his negligence for himself.

Even before stepping into the room, he recognized the metallic scent of blood. It was enough to warn his mind, though he already suspected what he would see given Viren's severely frost damaged legs had been fine. Of course they were... they were not his legs.

Rounding the corner, he could not say if he was relieved or disappointed that Opeli had located some linen to cover it...him. Cover him. Seumas. The name had been spelled out for him during the interrogation. More than that, he had overheard the elf's final rite. This had been a person; a husband and a father. No matter the path that had lead him to the castle, he had not deserved this. No one deserved this.

Without disturbing the praying Cleric and Acolyte, he moved closer. In the low lighting, his eyes travelled over the burnt lines in the floor. There was four pedestals at each of the cardinal directions. North held two shattered glass jars. Whatever had been at the West and South points had burned away until only scorch marks, and a few ashes remained. Finally, the pedestal for East had been crushed, yet only a tiny puddle of gold was left resting on it. He could only image what terrible things had been sacrificed to Viren's dark deeds.

He then looked upwards to take in the room's destruction. There were things he had no idea what they were, or had been. They were probably all Xadian artifacts tainted by dark magic. For the first time, King Harrow was truly seeing how terrible Viren having these items really was. He hoped that maybe the boys' connect with the elf girl could one day mean someone from Xadia could go through all this, purify everything, and return it all to their proper places.

But why wait? Perhaps he could bring a few handfuls of things down to the dungeons for Runaan to decipher; if he could convince the assassin that his questions were genuinely to return them to Xadia.

It felt like the best course of action to attempt to repay Seumas for what Viren had done. Thus, he quietly knelt down, and picked up the nearest small thing out of place; a pair of gold coins. He did not think anything of it since he spotted a third only a few paces away. After he collected that third, however, he had looked at them, and he discovered that these tiny artifacts were probably the most important Xadian things in the room. Then the torch light glinted off yet another coin in the corner. King Harrow tucked aside his rage for later in favour of searching the room top to bottom. By the time the tenth had been found, he silently vowed that Viren would need to make his peace with the paragon during the next twenty-eight days, because he would find his soul standing before their judgment with the help of an executioners axe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit, the scene where Viren was arrested was SO satisfying to write. Especially since this had been one of the hardest chapters for me to write. I can't wait to know what you guys think!  
> As always, thanks for reading (and I'll see you all on the next update in 5 minutes)


	27. The Lady of Elixirs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of this update! Once again, Happy Holidays :D

Verrago was seething as she urged her horse faster. At this speed, the wind stung her eyes even though she kept low to shield herself behind her mount's head.

Millennia of Earth spells to learn that ranged from herbalist, to rock moving, to beast summoning... And of course her idiot brother would learn the one spell that summons draocani! As if this mission was not cursed enough as is!

Of all the monsters ever to have existed, it had to be the creatures with the abilities and strength of ancient dragons without any of the intelligence or reasoning. She actually felt sorry for the humans that had no doubt become the creature's first meal. Her insides twisted as she was torn between hoping their deaths were quick, and wishing they survived long enough to keep the draocani hunting them instead of something- or someone- else. Namely a certain egg, two human Princes, and a moonshadow not-assassin.

Where were the war dragons when you needed them?!

The air grew thick with acidic tang of smoke, and ashes fluttered down like snow. The illusion stallions flickered as they passed close to a tall, flaming tree. Verrago ground her teeth as she slowed her horse, and guided the reins to circle the fire filled clearing. Then, she leaned enough to get a solid view of the chaos below. Close behind, Tam and Lucca were doing the same.

“Sweet fockin' Primals,” Tam's face paled in a way that made it seem like he was about to throw up.

“Haud it together,” she snapped back. Then she bite her tongue from making any further comments. An assassin dealt with blood and death, but not to this degree. This was carnage Tam had, mercifully, never been exposed to before; not to his memory, anyway. She, on the other hand, had seen such gore more times than she cared to admit. Even then, her own insides flopped upon seeing two of the beasts fighting over a corpse.

Moon have mercy on their soul.

She distracted herself with counting out the stony animals, “Ah see seven.”

“There are two more caught in a chain ta the South,” Lucca pointed out the pair tangled together and around one of the fiery trees. One's struggle to get free only made it worse for the opposite one.

Verrago already turned her attention to rummaging through her herbal satchel. She easily located the bottle with thick, maroon elixir, five empty vials, and a carefully folded, magically cold cloth. “Ah dinnae hae enough fur each o' 'em.”

“Ye only need ta hit the yin,” Tam countered. The other two gave him a look that prompted him to explain, “The spell said ta undo it, ye break the summonin' stone. Wan o' 'em will hae it stickin' frae their foreheads.” He tapped the middle of his own forehead to be more clear.

“Oh that's fockin' great,” Verrago snipped and waved towards the draocani. “Mind pointin' oot which o' the bastarts has a wee blue spot on 'em, because Ah cannae fuckin' tell frae up here.”

“I will go down and locate the one with the summonin' stone,” Lucca said as he readied his double sided spear.

“Hae ye lost yer fockin' heid?”

But Tam's outburst was ignored as Lucca continued, “Tam, keep goin' East until ye spot a large human lodge. It'll be right on the river. Keep a look out for the Princes and Rayla. Verrago and I will meet y'u there.”

The youngest glanced back and forth between his sister and teammate. It was clear in Lucca's tone and posture that he would not be argued with on this. “Dinnae get yerselves killed, mate.”

“Ye either, Numpty,” Verrago shot back.

With that, Tam pulled hard on his reins to direct his stead to the East. Though she was annoyed to watch him fly off while they cleaned up his mess, Verrago was relieved her brother would be taking on the safer job. Honestly, she was fairly certain she was going to grow old before her time worrying about him this much.

“Aim ta land in a tree. Once we get closer, the firelight will completely dissolve our mounts,” Lucca's voice drew her back to the task at hand.

She white knuckled her reins as she turned her focus to picking a solid tree close enough to the beasts without setting herself on fire. Then she glimpsed a trio of humans tucked inside a split in the earth. Pointing them out, she asked, “Whit do ye want ta do aboot 'em?”

“Nothin',” he plainly answered. “If they're smart, they'll make a run for it as soon as we have the draocani's attention.”

She was tempted to comment 'when were humans smart?', but the slight died on her tongue. The trio below had undoubtedly suffered enough cruelty at the claws of the most ancient terrors known to elf, and were still alive. She would give them what little respect that had earned from her. After all, she was by no means sadistic; that was not the way of an assassin.

In the span of a heartbeat, she made up her mind; she would land close enough to provide them some cover if they did make a run for it. Or be able to put them out of their misery quickly if a beast did snag them. Either option worked fine for her. She resettled her items in her bag, twisted to meet Lucca's gaze, and signalled she was ready.

In one fluid motion, he led the charge downwards. Guiding her own horse, she tilted her balance. Even though she knew it was coming, there was still a sense of panic passing through her the moment her horse vanished, and she was left to free fall. She eased into a position to help soften her landing. It was still a rough jolt to her ankles, but there was relief upon feeling a solid branch beneath her. Even with the loud crackling assaulting her ears, she heard a pained grunt to her right. Her breath hitched, and-using the tree's trunk to keep her balance- she whipped around to locate Lucca.

There was perhaps a hundred meters between the two of them. Evidently, he had shared her idea as his chosen tree was far closer to the humans than the draocani. Though his weapon had done so, Lucca, himself, had not fallen to the ground as she had feared. He precariously dangled as he struggled to pull himself up.

“Lucca!” she called to him. Without actually saying the words, she was asking if he was alright.

Her concerns were alleviated when he realized he would not be able to correct himself on that branch fast enough, and swung himself to balance on another- albeit lower- one. Once settled, he turned to meet her gaze; he was letting her know he was okay. Whether they were ready or not, however, that small bit of commotion had fully turned the stone beasts' attentions onto them.

Verrago cursed beneath her breath. It seemed she would not have enough time to mix multiple vials of solution after all. She only hoped she could get away with at least finishing one before needing to flee. Swift as her moon given reflexes could, she regathered her supplies. From the velvet cooling cloth, she pulled what looked like tiny blue hairs. They were actually the nettles of the highly combustible hedera ignotis- more commonly called 'sun snap ivy'.

The monsters were at the base of the trees now. An even two and two beneath her and Lucca. Sharp chatters echoed in the field as they began to circle. Their coal black eyes clearly trying to work out the best way to climb up.

Sweat began to drip down her temple as she placed the nettles into an empty vial. After extracting the elixir vial, she pulled out the cork with her teeth, and carefully poured it in with the nettles. On its own, star's bane extract was a mostly harmless way to remove callouses, and repair rough skin. Once mixed with a type of dangerous plant, however... well, forty feet in the air on a wind swaying branch with draocani making running jumps at the trunk was not an ideal setting to be handling such a concoction.

She hurried to cork the mix; still watching for where the draocani were. Then, with her thumb firmly placed over the lid, she vigorously shook it. While the new blend started to become hot in her palm, she returned the first elixirs' cork, and shoved it into her satchel. Bracing against the tree trunk, she held the mixture's vial up, prepared to toss it down at the correct second.

Though one of the creatures was still simply jumping up as if it could reach her with enough determination, the smarter of the two had dug their claws deep into the bark. Not that it was much smarter as it had gotten stuck. At the moment, it was more concerned with trying to figure out how to release its claws than climbing the rest of the way up.

“Up here, ye ugly focker!”

Its great head turned her way. Seeing her stance as a challenge, its mouth fell open to release that slateboard screech. Verrago cringed for her poor ears, but could not afford to miss the opportunity by trying to protect them. With a vicious shout, she tossed the vial. Her aim had not needed to be perfect. Something falling towards its own maw was enough to encourage the beast to snap down. The vial's glass shattered among its teeth. Maroon liquid coated it blood covered lips, and trickled down the front of it. If the fires had not already dominated perfuming the air, anyone within fifty feet would smell something sour like three weeks unwashed socks.

Verrago did not wait to watch. She sprang up to catch another limb from above, then used it and her momentum to swing for the next nearest tree. The exertion on her core caused her to grind her teeth. White hot pain ripped into her belly, and she could feel the last of the salve tear away. Her hand went to her middle once she safely landed in a new tree. Beneath her touch, the bandage was quickly becoming tacky.

Lucca staggered as he landed in the same tree as her. “Are y'u able ta climb higher?”

She shook her head while gritting her teeth. Her mind fought between panic, and scolding. She was in no state to be fleeing properly let alone fighting; dammit, she should have know better! Moon help them, this was going to take a miracle!

Meanwhile, the tree bound monster started to yowl, and it shook about to a degree its claws unlatched from the trunk. Were it a flesh creature, the horrible mixture would be melting away anything not bone. As a magical construct, however, beneath the stone plating dark purple-blue flames erupted. It's nearest brethren stepped closer as though it were trying to figure out why it was making such a fuss.

_Boom! Crack!_

The flames exploded sending pieces of the beast flying in every direction. Along side the bits of stone and clay splattered remnants of the deadly mixture. Most importantly, the back splash hit the one that had come closer to inspect the first. It was no more than a coin sized dollop, but it proved to have the same effect on this one as it had the first.

Panicked, it sprinted away from what had caused it pain, but slammed head long into the tree the pair of elves were perched. Verrago did not get the chance to see what had happened with the second, as Lucca shoved her against the tree trunk, and poised himself to act as a shield.

_Boom! Crack!_

Lucca grunted as a number of rock pieces collided with his back. Thankfully, none of them were sharp. Once the rubble stopped flying, both of them glanced down. Two sets of draocani chunks littered the ground, and it did not look like they were getting back up. The pair exchanged glances, first to confirm they were both seeing what they were seeing, and then as if to wordlessly agree on a plan. He shot off through the trees only to reappear on a dangerously low branch several feet away.

“Up here! Come on!” he yelled over the roar of the fire. He broke a random branch, and bang the stick against any part of the tree he could to make more noise.

The simple creatures instantly forgot about the fact two of their own had exploded, and narrowed in on him. They charged his way trying to be the first to leap for the branch. One would think a being made of stone could not jump that high, but Lucca had to move to avoid the claws of one that had been faster than the others. The landing in the next tree over irritated his legs, which left him a touch slower than he would have liked when the next attack came for him. Still, he got away, and that was what mattered.

Meanwhile, Verrago extracted two vials from her bag, and instantly went to work making more of the corrosion concoction. With fire crackling near her, she did not hear the steps of the heaviest beast coming for her. The tree unexpectedly shook when the beast whack it with its tail. With her abs in such pain, she was unsteady, and forced to choose between bracing herself or holding on to the things in her hands. The cloth of sun snap ivy nettles fell to the ground, as did one of the vials she had tucked nettles into. Though they distracted the hungry predator, Verrago was left cursing under her breath.

But of course the nettles landed where they could be set on fire. Which, in turn, meant the blaze's heat increased until each flame turned white. The clearing and the surrounding forest rapidly became as bright as day, and she was trapped where she stood. The only mercy she had was that she had managed to hold onto the second vial; thus securing a few nettles to mix one more elixir. So much for taking these things out two at a time.

A deep gargling below her had her looking down into the open maw of the beast. From this angle, molten red light was rising up its throat.

“Oh fock aff,” she groaned. Of course the one attacking her had to be the one in this lot that _could_ breath fire! Her head whipped side to side trying to find an easy exit that would not need a great-deal of core effort. This one needed her to flip, that one was higher which meant she would need to pull herself up as much with her abs as her arms. She was left with two options: stay where she was, or head for the ground. One guaranteed burning to death; the other promised a possible exit or at least a faster death.

She waited for as long as she dared. At the canon loud blast, she stepped over the edge and let herself free-fall. The beast's flames just singed the ends of her hair, but she was more concerned with drawing her weapon. As soon as its fire ended, the draocani saw her falling. It charged intending to catch her as soon as she hit the ground, but she angled her feet to launch off the trunk. The beast stopped, and watched completely dumbfounded as she soared over it.

As soon as Verrago painfully landed, she twisted in placed to locate her hunter. All the while she clutched the precious vial of nettles in her grasp. The large beast lowered to all-fours, and snorted like an angry bull. Damn this thing was a lot bigger when on ground level together. Maybe she could wedge herself into one of the crevasses in the ground nearby... she just had to outrun a freaking draocani to reach it.

She was so going to haunt Tam for this.

It charged. She bolted. The thumping in her ears was not nearly as loud as the thumping of the creature on her tail.

“Duck!”

Instinctively, she dove to the side just in case. She vaguely noticed a figure jump out from behind a tree, and threw Lucca's spear. Her pursuer screeched, so she risked a quick glance. Lucky she checked as the injured beast was staggering right for her, and she scrambled out of the way mere milliseconds before it crashed to the ground. Lucca's double sided weapon cleanly pierced one eye socket, and had sunk so far in that the point came out of the other socket. The draocani twitched its legs a few more times before finally going still.

There was no time to be relieved, though. The trapped two were finally free, and the four that had been chasing Lucca had noticed there were people on the ground.

She stumbled to her feet, heavily panting, and growing woozy. One was already beside her ready to chomp down. She side stepped the swift creature, and swung her blade. The sharp edge scored the stone from snout to the back of the head. The beast jerked, and ran to the side away from what was hurting it. When it turned, though, its back haunch, and tail slammed into her. She was flung backwards hard enough that she rolled several times when she hit the ground. To make matters worse, she found herself falling into a narrow ditch barely wide enough for an elf to slide down sideways. She bite down on a groan after hitting her horns during the fall, and instead checked her hand. Once more, she had managed to hang on to her last sun snap nettles.

Overhead, two of the damnable creatures were digging at the edges trying to squeeze themselves into the opening too. A set of claws swung for her, but the base of the ditch was thankfully wider that she could turn onto her back, and press her body further against the dirt bottom. Even then, she could feel those sharp talons scrap along her armour. The second one tried to reach her, but with the first still in the way, it did not get close enough. Thus, it pulled back and tried digging again.

Not really thinking, she dropped her sword, and sunk her hand into her satchel for the star's bane extract. Hands shacking, she once again uncorked it. The claws tried for her again, but she was able to once again flatten her body to avoid them. Gritting her teeth, she upturned the nettles directly into the extract. She did not bother to cork the mixture as she threw the empty vial aside to free up a hand. In the same breath that she reached for her sword, the monster reached for her again. This time they travelled upwards leaving a paper think cut on her cheek. She was just as quick to swing. The tight space meant there was not a lot of momentum to her attack, but it was still enough to startle the beast into pulling its hand away. As soon as that one jolted back some, the second took the opportunity to shove its whole head in.

Verrago batted the snapping jaws away, but this one would not be discouraged. Fine. She took a deep breath, and then let forth a battle cry. The arm holding the mixture flung forward, ramming the steaming vial directly into the thing's throat. The action forced the blood-thirsty thing to swallow the entire mixture- vial included- whole. It would have gagged at the invasion, but it was more pleased with the fact something was in its mouth. The sound of bones crunching when the jaws snapped closed was instantly drowned out by her scream. It was not the draocani's teeth causing her the most pain, though. Inside its gullet, its saliva was now tainted with the elixir's effects. She could feel her skin blistering where the spit ran down her arm, and seep into the bite like venom.

Half a second later, her damaged arm fell limp as the draocani let go of her. The purple-blue flames that had occurred to the others was swiftly engulfing it. It could not seem to get its head out of the hole fast enough, all the while letting off panicked, ear splitting screeches. She raised her good arm to shield her face from the flying spittle that came with every roar. Each little droplet sizzled as it burned into her flesh.

Some of the mixture must have hit the first draocani when the second pulled away, as it too was catching fire. Almost simultaneously, they exploded. Based on the sound, at least one other had been close enough to also have been hit, and would be combusting soon. But Verrago would not get the chance to find out.

In fact, the last thing she would ever see was the resulting rock and earth from the dual explosions rushing down, and burying her alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hurries to upload part 3 before readers want to kill me for this chapter*


	28. The King and the Assassin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, finally, part 3 of my holiday update! Thank you again everyone for reading. I hope to have the next chapter to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, Happy New Year!

Ironically, the one person in the entire castle to get some amount of rest- if one could call it that- was Runaan. Even then, it was because the doctor had requested he be tranquilized before they attempted to change his bandages a few hours prior. Since it was not the full moon, he was easily knocked out the moment the dart pricked him. It had made him lucid enough to hear what was going on around him, but he was not able to do anything more than lay limp on the wooden bed. Hazing in and out, he knew his wounds were tended to, and that things returned to silence immediately after. He had been jolted from a shallow slumber when a tower bell tolled. Then he started to doze once more when a new prisoner had been added to a cell close by. Whoever it was, he vaguely noted they carried the heavy aura of dark magic before blacking out.

The next time he came to, he was being carried by his shoulder and ankles. The chains were no longer around his neck, and it did not sound like they were simply moving him to another cell. He could not tell where they were taking him until he felt moonlight on his skin. Much to his surprise, it remained, and he was gently set down on a hard surface. There was nothing to help indicate how long he laid there, but the moon's power was swiftly washing away the tranquilizer's effects more quickly. If he had had the control, he would have preferred to remain still, and pretend to still be drugged. Unfortunately, with feeling returning to him, his limbs unintentionally twitched.

“I think he's waking up.”

“Go alert the King.”

Then there were footsteps running away. It was interesting to note that, even though their King was apparently coming, they had not shackled him down. He had not heard anything to indicate he was caged, either. Where they really so foolish as to believe he would remain powerless when they had left him beneath moonlight? He opted to remain still; just because he was 'waking up' did not mean they knew he was fully alert by now.

“Is that smoke?”

“Isn't that the direction of the Banther Lodge?”

“Why would anyone set the Banter Lodge on fire?”

“What if that's where the Princes and the elf girl went?”

And then the voice he knew to belong to the King of Katolis cut in, “What is going on?”

“Your Majesty. The forest appears to be on fire to the East.”

There was silence as the King seemed to think. With the humans distracted, Runaan risked peeking one eye open to check his surroundings. He recognized the castle roof where he had said his goodbye to Rayla. They had set him nearer to one wall to ensure the shadow from the other wall did not block the moonlight. Perhaps they were more aware that he could be revived more quickly with moonlight. He also noticed that the King was once again fully armoured, and bore a sheathed sword at his side.

One soldier caught that his eyes was somewhat opened, though. They stepped to the side so that they stood between him and the King with their weapon ready. “King Harrow. He's awake.”

The man's head snapped from the horizon to him. There was no point pretending he had not been caught. Runaan shot up...

Well, he _tried_ to shoot up. It seemed there were still some lingering side effects in his system. He had managed to fling himself to his feet, but immediately lost his balance. Where the guards cautiously back away from him, the King stepped forward. He grabbed Runaan's arm to steady him, but Runaan jerked away as though he had touched hot metal. They exchanged hard stares that spoke volumes that neither trusted the other.

Then, cold, and calm, the King spoke, “I had you brought here with the intention of surrendering myself... with some conditions. But it appears that _my_ sons and _you_ daughter are in danger. So, do you think you could allow me to live a few more hours until I can ensure their safety?”

Runaan studied the man's features. The King was tense, but he was not flinching away from his gaze. He glanced over the human's shoulder. Far in the distance was a plum of black smoke. It was large enough to indicate the forest itself was burning, but small enough to prove it was still fairly young. It was also still close enough to the castle that the human Princes could have walked there in a day, including plenty of time for rest. If the King had had his people start the fire as a ploy for him to run from the castle, there would be no point releasing him from his dungeon. Further more, he did not see any dragon's flying through the otherwise clear night air, so something else caused the fire.

All of this concluded that the Princes may actually be in danger. He trusted that Tam would save the egg if things truly got out of hand... but what about Rayla? He knew that soft heart of hers would mean she would stay with the boys to try to save them; even if it killed her. He was not supposed to care any more what happened to her. She was supposed to be dead to him; he had said so at this very spot.

But he did care. His mission was already a disaster... what was delaying the King's death a few hours more if it meant possibly saving Rayla?

He returned to meeting King Harrow's eyes, “Only until their safety has been ensured.”

He nodded, then began his orders, “Return Runaan his belongings, and prepare the horses. I want every able body guard, and field medic available to be ready to leave for the Bather Lodge, immediately.”

“I will be coming as well,” he swiftly added while accepting his armour, and weaponry. If asked, he would say it was to make sure the King kept his word as soon as the children were safe. But his heart knew the truth...

The King breathed a half-laugh, “I expected nothing less. I suppose there are some things I need to discus with you while the horses are being prepared.”

Runaan glared at him, but followed in step with the King and his guards. “This had better not be more non-sense about a supposed relationship between your son and Rayla.”

“If only it were something so light-hearted,” he tiredly mumbled. Then, after a deep breath to steady himself, he continued, “No, I discovered my _ex_ -High Mage had been kidnapping elves to use for dark magic. Truthfully, I don't know how many he has taken over the years, but, thus far, we have found twenty-six of them still alive. There may be more once my people have finished their search through his belongings. I was hoping you and your team could take them with you back to Xadia... once my High Cleric has discovered a way to release them from their prisons.”

He could not say he was surprised to hear that humans had been kidnapping elves. He was not pleased that the King was trying to pretend he knew nothing about it. Runaan clenched his jaw, “Where are they being kept?”

“They are trapped inside golden coins,” the King explained. “I don't know where Viren was keeping them because they were scattered across the floor when we found them. But right now we've placed them inside a private display case. Hopefully it will bring them some comfort to be able to see light, again. Even if its through a glass pane.”

It was taking all his years as an assassin to keep himself outwardly calm. Inside, he was a raging inferno that wanted nothing more than to fire twenty six arrows into both King and Dark Mage. Make that twenty seven for taking the egg of the dragon Prince, as well.

“Is the case portable?”

He gave a single nod. “It is.”

“Then have your people bring it to me, at once,” he commanded.

The King was not phased by the bite in his tone. “Very well. If the servants do find others, however, where do you want them kept?”

“Not in anything that allows humans to gawk at them,” he snipped. Those trapped elves were already under a great deal of stress. They did not need to reside in a _display_ case like they were some type of collectible trinkets.

They had stepped out to the courtyard where the horses were being lined up, and saddled, but he continued to silently seethe. The King excused himself long enough to give a waiting hand the order to have someone named Opeli bring the case. Runaan wondered if he would recognize any of those trapped within. His mind raced through every missing elf he knew of, including those he had been hired to find back in the day. By the Moon's Grace, twenty-six elves. And those were the fortunate few that escaped becoming parts for dark magic.

When the King approached him, again, he sneered, “How _exactly_ was _your_ High Mage able to capture a minimum of twenty-six elves without your knowing?”

The King frowned as guilt shone in his eyes, “I don't know. If I am honest, there was likely years of wilful negligence involved on my part.”

Runaan steadied his temper with a slow exhale through his nose. At least, the man had the decency to admit fault where it was due. “And how are you punishing this dark mage for his crimes?”

He seemed to have expected the question as he smoothly responded, “Viren has been stripped of his titles and lands. He is currently serving twenty-eight days in prison for the desecration of a body, and I have left orders that he is to be executed by beheading immediately after.”

His heart suddenly froze, and his rage turned to pure, cold fire. Through grit teeth, he growled, “Which. Body?”

King Harrow did not answer. He did not need to as the sorrowful guilt on his face answered for him. Instead, he gave a flimsy explanation, “The individual that had been watching over his remains had fallen asleep while on duty. By the time we knew the body was gone, Viren had already used him for a ritual to replace lost limbs. It was due to that ritual we also discovered the coins.”

“And I assume one of those entrapped was used in this ritual,” he plainly stated. He did not need the King's confirmation, but once he was given it, he had to clench his fists to rein in his wrath. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and listened to his own breathing as he often did to meditate. As soon as he gained some semblance of being centred, he gave himself the time to mull over all he had been told. He wanted nothing more than to plunge his blade through the human's chest that very second for allowing this to happen. That was on top of killing Avizandum.

Except the King of Katolis was already willing to face justice as soon as his sons were safe, and Runaan had already granted he would not kill him before hand. It had not been a promise, but the man's ability to own up to what was done, and his actions in regards to his Mage's misdeeds, had earned him enough respect that the assassin leader would not double-cross him. It was odd, though, that someone with this much sense of justice had ordered something as unjust and cruel as the destruction of an innocent egg. In fact...

Runaan opened his eyes to watch the King's response, “Why did you order to have the egg of the dragon Prince destroyed?”

King Harrow was only taken back a moment, but then sighed, “I didn't.”

He had not been expecting that answer. “Explain,” he prompted.

The King took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose as if it would help clear his thoughts. “That is, unfortunately, another crime I allowed Viren to commit. He insisted the egg needed to be destroyed before it had the chance to grow, and seek vengeance for what we did to Thunder.” Then he looked up to meet Runaan's eyes with unashamed sincerity. “I know it does not undo what has been done, but I have regretted allowing him to destroy that egg from the moment the deed was done.”

Runaan pursed his lips, “How can you say that when you were not even present for the egg's destruction.”

“How do you know I wasn't there?” King Harrow furrowed his brow with confusion.

“Because if you had been, you would have known your Mage did not destroy the egg,” he carefully studied how the King's eyes grew wide, and his jaw dropped.

“What?” his voice was near breathless.

He was not sure why, but that reaction was enough that he trusted he could speak the truth. “The egg of the dragon Prince lives.”

As if to remind him that they were not alone, several whispers passed between the soldiers and servant present. Still, he remained focus on the King. For his part, King Harrow was looking off in the distance. His eyes glazed by his thoughts. For a moment, a proud smile slipped onto his lips, “That's what the children have, isn't it?”

Runaan nodded his answer.

In the next moment, though, his face fell, “The fire. Viren may have sent some sort of dark spell after them to take the egg back.” He faced his servants, “Are the horses ready?”

“Only yours and two others thus far, your Majesty,” the soldier answered.

“Then I shall ride ahead,” he marched for one of the armoured horses.

Runaan was quick to follow, “And I have already stated that I shall be riding with you.”

The King did not say anything. He made a gesture, and a stable hand approached with one of the other two saddled horses. Both King and assassin mounted. They only waited half a heartbeat to be sure the other was ready before racing out the front gate. Neither seemed to remember that they had been expecting the High Cleric, much to Opeli's announce when she finally reached the courtyard not three minutes later.

They charged as fast as their horses could go. It was almost a neck and neck race, but the King was technically leading since he was the only one between them that knew which roads to take. Ashes began to flutter down on them. After a solid fifteen minutes of riding, the air was growing thicker and thicker with smoke, making it difficult to breath let alone see the path.

They could not have been more than thirty minutes down the road before another horse could be seen running towards them. Fast on its tail was a stone, bi-pedal creature resembling a small dragon without wings. Runaan recognized the beast for the nightmare it was, and, without a second thought, he readied his bow. It was difficult to get a clear shot thanks to the fleeing horse ahead of it, so he only managed to fire an arrow into one of its nostrils. Still, it had not been expecting the attack, and instantly slowed. Its great clawed fore-paw desperately scratched at his snout trying to dislodge the arrow.

Meanwhile, King Harrow had drawn his sword. As soon as the fleeing horse ran by them, he lowered his blade. Runaan scoffed, and split his bow into their dual blades. There was no time to warn the King that a magical construct such as a summoned creature could not possibly be damaged by human made weapons.

Except the King's sword cleanly beheaded the beast leaving his own blades to strike air. He looked back to be sure of what he saw. Indeed, the ancient terror was just a heap of rocks and clay in the road.

“Is it dead?!” King Harrow shouted as they continued to ride.

“So long as it is regular summoning magic, then yes,” he eyed the sword. It looked one hundred percent human made, and its sheen in the waning moonlight indicated it was non-enchanted steel. He shook his head deciding to leave it be, and reassembled his two blades into a bow.

“That horse that ran by just now belongs to General Amaya,” King Harrow shouted over his shoulder as he sheathed his sword. “Hopefully that's a sign she and her battalion have already taken care of most of those things.”

Maybe if they also had magic thwarting weaponry, he though. If not, they were going to come up on the General and her soldiers' mangled corpses. What he said aloud though was, “We should expect to encounter eight to twenty more that size. Plus the mother.”

“The mother? That was a baby?” King Harrow glanced back, but they had already rode too far to see it any longer.

“Mercifully, yes,” Runaan calmly answered. Even though he was internally cursing that fool mage for being so stupid as to summon draocani, of all creatures. “That one would be considered a juvenile on the cusp of adolescence. An adult will stand about three times that size, and can breath fire just as well as any living war dragon.”

“That explains the forest fire,” King Harrow muttered at a level he probably had not intended Runaan to hear him. Then, he quipped, “At least we know they can be defeated by beheading.”

He lightly chuckled, “If you wish to be the one to attempt removing the head of the adult, be my guest.”

And so they road on-wards. Neither of them feeling particularly confident about what they would face ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the group that Amaya, Corvus, Lucca, and Verrago were fighting were juvenile draocani. I was trying to hint at that by the fact only one of them could breath fire.  
> So... where's Mama? Dun dun Duh!  
> As always, you folks are amazing! I can't wait to hear your theories about what's to come next. Thank you for reading :D


	29. The Mother of Monsters

“Callum,” someone was shacking him from a rather cozy sleep. “Callum, wake up.”

The shacking grew more desperate, “Cal-lum.”

“Huh. Wha...” finally Callum opened his eyes. Sitting up, he turned to face his younger brother. “What is it?”

But before Ezran could say a word, Rayla's hand covered the young Mage's mouth. He had no idea when she had finally come back to bed last night. Despite the fact she had to have been exhausted, she appeared fully alert while facing far off. Her ears gave a single twitch. Huh... she can move her ears. That was kind of cute.

“Somethin's comin',” her words brought him into full wakefulness.

She slipped back towards the couch in their shelter, and grabbed her blades. “Stay here.” Then she cautiously found her way out of the blanket fort.

Callum glanced down at Ezran with a questioning eyebrow raised. His little brother, however, was tightly hugging the egg close to his body. Even in the dark he could make out he was trembling to the point of near tears. Beside him, mostly hiding in the bedding, Bait's large eyes watched for danger. Callum realized the others must of heard something while he had been sound asleep. He faced the direction Rayla had been looking, and focused.

He was not sure, but it sounded like there was thunder in the distance. Except, there was no flash of lightning proceeding it. The boys were silent for what felt like an eternity, when it was really less than two minutes. Another crack followed by a thud indicated that it was not thunder; a tree had just come crashing down. Not sure what he would see, he tensely leaned forward to crack a peek through a flap between two blankets. He remained there for a few moments, but then shot backwards when Rayla suddenly appeared in front of him. She threw aside the blanket, and then shoved their mostly dried clothes into his arms. “Quick. Get dressed. We need to leave.”

“What? Why? What's going on?” but she had already run off with her own clothing.

“The forest is on fire!” she shouted her answer from somewhere on the second level.

That got him moving. It had to be the fastest he ever changed in his life, but somehow Ezran had been faster. Rayla was done and racing down the stairs by the time he pulled on his second boot. The egg of the dragon Prince was once again tucked into Ezran's pack so he could carry a terrified Bait. It was just as Callum grabbed for his bag that the terrified glow toad let out a scream. The trio froze as they too had noticed the large, black eye that was peering into the window above the entrance.

Was that... a _dragon_?! From what he could see from the windows it had the same long snout, and head shape as a dragon. It was not as big as an adult dragon, though. It just looked huge because- looking out the ground level windows- it looked like this thing was upright on two legs. As far as he knew, dragons were quadrupeds. Except for the ones with wings for their front legs, but still they did not stand up right, right? Right?

Before he could figure out just what he was looking at, the great beast let out a loud roar that rattled the glass, threatening to shatter every window in the building.

“Run!” Rayla shouted as she lead the way in the opposite direction. Neither he nor Ezran needed to be told twice.

As soon as the group dashed for the back of the lodge, a large set of claws tore open the front entry. Pieces of roof and rafting rained down on them. They narrowly came to a stop in time to avoid being crushed under one of the second floor support beams. The massive stone creature roared, again, bringing down dangling pieces of dust and debris.

No longer able to safely head further into the lodge, and the entrance blocked by the creature chomping away at the walls to make a larger hole, Callum's eyes landed on the only other exit. “This way!”

No one questioned him as they raced together down the stairs into the cellar. A deep gargling noise echoed behind them with each hurried step. They safely made it to the bottom when a wall of fire filled the upstairs exactly where they had been a minute ago. Though they were too far away to be burned, they could all feel the heat fill the space.

Okay. It was a weird looking dragon, but _definitely_ a dragon, he concluded. And, for reasons he did not know, it was angry.

Rayla swiftly circled in place as she took in the cellar space, “Way ta go, Callum. We're trapped!”

“I didn't hear you making any suggestions on how to escape a _dragon_!” he barked back.

“Tha' thing is not a dragon,” she growled back.

Seriously? Why was she arguing about this now? “Well what is it, then?”

“Ah don' know!” she began to frantically pace. “It looked like some kind o' summoned creature, like a... a golem.”

Some of his annoyance subsided, “Okay. Well, if its magic, is there some way to un-summon it?”

Please say yes, he mentally chanted. The frown on her face, however, was not encouraging.

“Guys. Over here!” He almost did not hear Ezran thanks to a loud scrapping that started overhead. The thing must have finally breached the entry, and was trying to dig at the floor boards. Thankfully, the majority of the cellar was covered by the back of the lodge, not the front. Not that it would block that golem-dragon-thing's path for long.

Both teens snapped their attention to where Ezran's voice had called from behind some supply barrels. They raced over to discover he had squeezed himself between the barrels and the wall.

“Look!” he proudly pointed to a spot close to him. Hidden by stacked barrels was the heavily barred cellar door.

Callum had to crane his neck to see, but once he did, he grinned. “Ez! You're a genius.”

“I know,” he cheekily responded.

“Quick. Help meh move move these barrels,” Rayla grabbed the closest one, and started to push it aside.

Since it was nearly summer, the barrels did not have anything inside them. They were still fairly heavy, but the group was able to work together to shimmy them out of the way. They were just starting to form a path when the ceiling crunched and creaked. Distinctly stone talons were poking through where the front of the lodge overlapped the cellar. The group gave nervous screams. Especially when those claws pulled back, and took entire chunks of building with them. The stone snout wedged between the floor joists; its hot breath blew back their hair, and made the space smell like a lit kiln.

Once again, Rayla proved her speed as she had her blades drawn and charging before Callum could even clue in that she had intended to attack. With a double strike, she slashed along the muzzle. The thing pulled its head away, and gave an aggravated roar. The ceiling creaked when it stamped its fore-paw trying to bat her away, but not only had Rayla easily shot back to where the boys were, the claws became embedded in a joist. That deep gurgling sound rose, again.

Realizing the not-dragon was going to breath fire again, he pulled the primal stone from his pocket. He knew the ice spell would leave him too weak to be of any help, so he opted to draw the rune for the basic wind breath spell.

“ _Aspiro!_ ”

His spell let loose in the same second that flames filled the cellar. It was his breath verse the things, and, though it kept the fire back from them, it was inching closer. Callum had to close his eyes as he desperately pushed his lungs to blow harder. If he could just will the spell to be stronger, he could save everyone from burning alive. He _could_ save them; he was a Mage!

Something surged within his chest. A sort of palpitation in his heart that reminded him of hugging Ezran, of talking with Rayla out on the step last night, and- most of all- what it felt like when King Harrow had assured him that he was not 'the step-prince'. He was his son.

He held onto that feeling, and suddenly it did not feel like he had to put as much effort into blowing. The fact he was still blowing with all his might, though, intensified Aspiro to a gale force. What space the fire had gained on them, it was pushed back in seconds. The stand off remained for nearly a minute, then both monster and mage ran out of breath. The stone was scorched, and barrels were burned, but everyone was safe. Standing in place, panting as if he had just ran the entire road from the castle to the lodge, Callum's jaw dropped.

“I can't believe that worked,” he wheezed.

“Come on. We need to get these out o' the way before it can recharge its fire,” Rayla directed. She seemed to think better of putting her blades away, though. Instead, she flicked them into their hook function. Then she dug the points into the closest barrel. With a mighty heave, she was able to completely roll the barrel aside. As she went for the next one in the way, Callum and Ezran worked together to push away the one beside it.

_Crack!_

The group screamed again when the thing's leg crashed through the burnt joists. The limb was not long enough to reach deeply enough into the cellar to snag them, but each claw swipe felt much too close for comfort. Since Rayla had to pause a moment to flick her blades back to swords, Callum did catch what she was planning before she did it.

Not that he could do anything more than shout, “Wait!”

Once again, he underestimated her speed. It was almost child's play the way she confidently ducked beneath the paw's swipe, and then delivered a devastating slash. The creature gave a pained howl as the claw from its smallest digit fell to the ground. Before the limb could completely retreat, she gave another well aimed slish-slash injuring the knuckles.

Okay, so she definitely knew what she was doing. With that, Callum felt comfortable enough to focus on removing the last barrel with Ezran's help. Since the boys had the room to do so, they toppled it over, and rolled it aside. With the door free from obstacles, the pair of Princes pushed the security bar up. Just the two of them though, was not enough.

“Rayla! A little help?!” he grunted as he continued to lift.

She was at their sides in seconds, and together the three of them were able to remove the massive, square log. It clattered to the floor, making them jump back to avoid it landing on anyone's toes. That was when that distinctive gurgling began again behind them. Ezran swiped Bait from his perch on an unmoved barrel as Rayla and Callum shoved open the low door. Not one of them looked back as they ran up the slope into the smoke filled night. This had been an even closer call than the time before as Callum could feel the heat singe the back of his clothes.

Outside, their eyes stung, and it was so hard to breath that they all started to cough. They could just make out a flickering in the distance through all the grey. The sky carried the illusion that dawn was coming, though it was not that early just yet. The loud crackling, and the panicked calls of fleeing birds and animals, proved it was a raging forest fire, perhaps a mere ten kilometres away.

Unable to see more than a few feet in front of them, the boys trusted Rayla to lead the way. They looped around the back of the lodge, away from the burning part of the forest, and along the river. That did mean that they were running near the places that the lodge was quickly catching from the first breath weapon. Within what remained of the structure, loud cracks and roaring indicated the stone creature was still attempting to dig their way into the cellar. At least it had not realized they had gotten out.

When they came around the other side- the bridge coming into view- the widely whipping tail knocked parts of the wall towards them. Bait spotted the falling debris first, and his cry warned the others. Callum was suddenly shoved backwards that he was nearly flung into the river. He watched, as if time had slowed, as one of the wall logs crashed down on top of a certain moonshadow elf, who had been the one to push him- and Ezran- out of the way.

“Rayla!”

Just as fast as terror had set in, it was washed away with dizzy degrees of relief. The log over her was propped up by another that had fallen beside her. She was pinned, but, fortunately, not crushed. She was wriggling and squirming trying to get herself unstuck. Without any care for his own safety, Callum raced to help. He hooked his arms under hers, and pulled. Not being particularly athletic, however, meant his pulling was about as successful as her pushing had been.

To make matters worse, him yelling her name had caught the attention of the beast inside. It immediately stopped digging, and stretched itself to full height.

“Guys,” Ezran pointed to the massive head watching them over the broken parts of the wall.

Callum shifted his legs to try pulling at a better angle, while Rayla kicked her own feet trying to find some traction. The head lowered from view, and then the ground quacked as it charged. There was an earth splitting crash indicating it had smashed through the wall connecting the main living area to the kitchen. The bedrooms above groaned before collapsing down. More wreckage went flying when the great stone beast flung back its head to free it from the fallen second floor.

Knowing that it would be after them soon, he grit his teeth, and threw his entire body weight into getting Rayla free. In the same moment one of her feet finally caught a piece of debris to push off of. As she slid free, he fell onto his backside. There was no time to celebrate for both needed to scramble to their feet; the summoned beast was crawling its way over the fallen structure right towards them.

“Run, Ezran!” Callum shouted at his petrified brother.

The young Prince jolted. He took one look at the fact the others would be right behind him, and then took off for the bridge. Instead of remaining focused on the two morsels meters from its maw, however, the beast's great head turned so that its eyes followed the fleeing boy.

Seeing this, Callum panicked. He jumped in place, wildly waved his arms at the giant stone creature, “Hey! Down here, you big, ugly monster!”

It snorted steam as its lip curled back. The gurgling started, but abruptly stopped when the thing snapped its attention the other way. A second later, Callum realized he was hearing the echoing whinny of a horse. He peered out into the distance. At first he could barely make out a sihlouette. Then, appearing from the smoke, with the firelight glinting off his armour, Commander Gren rode in like a knight from the Lord of Protection's Sun-shield Army. Realizing who it was, he expected to see Amaya and her entire battalion ride in too, but realized half a second later that Gren was alone. Despite this, determination was firmly etched on the Commander's freckled face as he urged his horse forward. One hand on the reins, he held a sword at the ready in the other.

Having someone coming for it rather than running away enraged the beast. With another mighty roar, it stampeded over the last of the debris it had been climbing, and charged his way. In only a few, earth-trembling strides, it cleared the distance between it and the Commander. The head lowered that Callum thought for sure it was going to try to swallow Gren whole, but in the next second he spotted him riding past. The brave soldier had manoeuvred his horse out of the way at the last possible second.

Gren glanced at his now broken sword, and then tossed it aside. Focusing both hands on the reins, he guided his horse to run circles around the creature. Each twist, and bolt perfectly timed to be just out of the monster's reach. With his distraction, the team was given the time to regroup at the bridge.

The exact second they were all together again, Rayla's head snapped up towards the sky. The Princes' eyes followed her gaze to see what looked like a streak of moonlight coming directly for them. In the milliseconds it took to realize it was a _glowing_ , winged horse, it landed in front of them. The hooves had barely stopped before its rider jumped off its back.

“Was it really so fockin' hard ta stay in the fockin' cave?” Tam barked as he staggered.

“Tam!” Ezran cheered.

“Where were you?” Callum fired off both worried, and relieved; with a hint of impatience for good measure.

Before Tam could answer, though, Rayla had a question of her own, “Wha' happened ta yer leg?”

“No' noo, Lassie.” Then he aggressively grabbed Ezran by his pack, and the back of his pants.

“Hey!” both Princes protested, at the same time as Rayla scolded, “Tam!”

But he ignored all of them, and practically threw Ez on top on the ethereal horse. “The lot o' ye need ta get oot o' here. Dinnae get too close ta any lights, 'n' this should get ye ta the mountains before the sunrise.”

“Wha'? We can' just leave,” Rayla grabbed Tam's wrist before he could go for Callum the same way he had Ezran.

There was literally no time to argue, though. The stone beast had attempted to slash at Gren, but with its growing rage at not being able to catch him, it completely missed. Instead, the pieces of the porch were thrown straight over the group's heads. They ducked even though they had not needed to in the end. Still, the flying wreckage startled the moon-horse. It gave a single panicked whinny, and then took off. Though three sets of hands attempted to stop it, the stead took to the air. Since Ezran- who had barely corrected his seating during the brief conversation- did not have a hold of the reins, he was forced to cling to the horse's neck for dear life.

“Ezran!” Callum shouted in a panic.

“Prince Callum, look out!”

Gren's warning, joined by that gurgling that would haunt his nightmares, swiftly reminded him that, technically, Ez was in far less danger than they were. The trio dove to either side of the bridge as the latest cone of fire shot where they had just been. Being the least agile out of them- make that not agile at all- Callum unintentionally tumbled down towards the dock. Fortunately for him, Gren had rode close enough to the beast to gets its attention back onto himself.

Unfortunately for Gren, his heroism had placed him and his horse within striking range. A swing of its great head batted them aside, sending the rider flying, and his horse right into its claws. The air filled with horrifying noises from the dying animal that abruptly ended with a _crunch_. Callum cringed, and his stomach lurched. Even though a plume of smoke attempted to obscure the scene, he could still make out the silhouette of the not-dragon beast throwing its head back, and taking down half the horse with a single bite. With a hand on his mouth to keep down his stomach contents, he got back on his feet.

Rayla shot by him, and, after some unintelligible grumbling definitely including the word 'fock', Tam staggered after. It was only once Callum made it up the couple of steps he realized they were running to help Gren. He was, mercifully, mostly unharmed despite having been tossed through a broken window thanks to him landing on their blanket castle.

Secure in the fact they were okay for the moment, his eyes turned upwards. He spotted the silver glow speck that had his brother heading off towards the castle... and the light of the great, growing fire. As if he was not already worried about Ez falling off, now he could run into a burning tree. There was also Tam's warning about staying away from light, so he assumed that meant something bad could happen if Ez rode too close. He needed to get to him, and fast!

That just meant getting by 'Big, and Terrifying' in his way. Said creature licked the blood along its lips already finished its chevaline meal. He ducked into the nearest brush to avoiding being targeted next. Instead of seeing him, its nose turned in the direction his friends were, and the nostrils flared. Though a half-there wall blocked them from its view, he was sure it was sensing them. He glanced behind himself at the river. It was still the lulled current, so he could swim if he needed to... something a monster made from stone probably could not do. Actually, if it was a golem, that meant parts of it were mud and clay... which could be washed away with water! Decision made, he turned his attention back to the stalking predator. Now, it was simply a matter of getting it to focus on him, alone.

And, naturally, one of the spells he had copied off the cheat sheet popped into his head. It was one he had made a mental note to practise later, but there needed to be a later. Thus, drawing forth the primal stone once more, he leapt from his hiding place. He traced out the glowing rune that looked like a strange '3' descending from a cloud, added the little wing, and felt the magic move through him.

“ _Fulminis_!”

It started like a prickle on the back of his neck that zipped through his arm. As the spell formed it felt as though it was giving him new energy rather than taking it. It was like being a giddy child waiting on a surprise. In fact, this was by far the most exhilarated he felt since discovering assassins were coming for King Harrow.

He jammed his open palm in the direction of the stone animal's head in the same second that lightning shot from it. The bolt gave a loud crack upon hitting its target on the side of its face. That had certainly got its attention because, in an instant, large, coal eyes glowered at him. With only open ground between them, it charged at him far faster than he was expecting. With only seconds to think, he instinctively re-drew the lightning spell. The second time he fired off, the lightning blasted right between the eyes of the monster. The crack of splitting rock was swiftly drowned out by the beast's enraged roar. Out of options, Callum threw his arms over his head, and ducked.

The ground quaked as massive legs stampeded on either side of him, followed by a _Splash!_ A large wave hit him as high as his shoulders, but he was alive. Just to be sure, he patted himself over; yep, he was alive and in one piece.

“Get the fock oot o' there!” He looked up to see Tam and Gren racing his way. His elation suddenly vanished to dread once more when he realized Rayla was not with them.

Whipping around, he spotted her in an instant running down the thrashing creature's spin. It was, thankfully, more preoccupied with finding its footing, and keeping its head above water. Callum was fairly certain he stopped breathing as he watched her leap from the base of the tail high into the air. Then, with a flip to slow her momentum, she landed on the wall of the bridge. She was practically a blur racing to get off the bridge as the tail smashed down over it. He did not get the chance to see if she made it, though, because Gren yanked him by his backpack strap. It forced his feet to move out of the way of the wailing creature returning to land.

The three raced for the road. Callum checked over his shoulder as he ran, and then openly sighed with relief. Rayla was fine, and was rapidly coming up behind them. Better still, the sopping wet monster was not paying them any mind. It was angrily roaring, and trying to slash its claws at the river giving the four of them ample time to disappear down the road...and in to the 'safety' of a burning forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet mother of draocani, this was intense! Sorry to leave on a cliffhanger (I swear this time was unintentional). This chapter is supposed to include more, but already over 4k words, a large chunk was moved to the next chapter instead. Plus, it helps me get this to you today despite the delay writing "Mysterious Magical Dust" had caused.  
> So, Gren is alive! Tam has returned! But, oh no, Ez, Bait, and Zym have been carried away upon the back of an illusion stallion! What's going to happen next? Well, I know, but I love reading your theories, and comments... you guys are amazing, and so creative.  
> Once again, thank you all for your continued love, and support for this story. You guys have made this the best fandom to write for, and I'm always so excited to share the next piece with you. Imaginary cookies for everyone!  
> On that note, I'm gonna go back to working on chap 30. See you all soon!


	30. Aspiro Storm

“Wha' were y'u thinkin'?!” Rayla sharply shouted at him once they were a fair distance down the road. “Tha' thing could have killed y'u!”

It had been far too close in her opinion. The monster was made of stone; lightning was useless against it! If she had been a few seconds too slow, or if there had not been debris at the perfect angle to give her the boost to get on top of the creature's shoulder to begin with...

Her swords had barely cracked the large rock when she had attempted to stab behind the many horns that made up its crown. It had hurt it, which had thankfully distracted it from eating Callum, but the stupid human still could have been trampled!

Said Prince opened his mouth to answer, but, at that moment, Tam suddenly fell to his knees. The small team instantly stopped; she and Callum moving to his sides.

“Are you okay?” Callum asked. He was hovering ready to help Tam up in a moment's notice.

Rayla was less obvious about it, but her eyes still shone with concern.

Holding his injured leg, Tam gave the young Prince a dirty look, “Do Ah look okay ta ye, lad?”

The human soldier moved in closer, “We have to keep moving. There are more of those monsters out there.”

“We're no' leavin' him!” she instantly snapped. And to think, she had hurried to help him after that thing had thrown him through a window.

“She's right,” Callum was quick to add. “Tam is our friend. And he gave up his mount so that Ez could get away. We have to help him.”

Then, hardly loud enough for human hearing, said knife-thrower grumbled, “We're no' friends.”

Already stressed as was, Rayla did not hold back rounding on him, “Will y'u give it a rest? Ah know y'u have a problem with him and Prince Ezran being human, but now's no' the time ta be stubborn.”

As his brown eyes glowered at her, she noticed the look was not genuine. Sure, he was turning his knuckles pale with how tightly he curled his fists, but there was a mournful sort of softness to his expression. An almost guilt ridden look, to be honest. Then he clenched his jaw, and looked away from her. “Ah may be stubborn, but at least Ah'm no' fockin' soft.”

The remark stabbed into her chest. Every retort that came to mind was frozen in her throat. In one deadly swoop, she was taken back to two days ago, and Runaan's scolding.

_I see now that you're just a child. Your heart isn't hard enough to do whatever it takes._

She saw Callum look her way seeming to read her reaction, and then his expression hardened. Facing Tam once more, he boldly growled, “Well, we're just as stubborn. Once we are all safe, you can go on hating humans, and saying mean things about us. Until then, you're going to accept our help.” He glanced at the red-headed soldier. “Gren, do you think you can carry him?”

The human knight- Gren- gaped a moment clearly taken back by the request. Then, in the next moment, he was nodding, “Of course.”

After he knelt down with his back to Tam, the ornery elf frowned, “Ye got ta be fockin' with meh. Ah think Ah'd rather be eatin' alive.”

Just then, the massive beast's roar sounded off causing all four of them to check if it was nearby. It was not in view yet, but the crashing of a tree, and the gentle tremor in the ground indicating it was getting closer.

“Are y'u sure about tha'?” Rayla quipped looking down.

He was visibly pale, and wide-eyed while looking in the direction they had come from. At her words, though, he shot her a glare. They became locked in a stand off for the span of three heartbeats before he relented. “No' yin fockin' word o' this back home, ye got it, Lassie?”

“Ah won' tell a soul back home.” A triumphant smile on her lips, she briefly gave Callum a grateful look. He smiled and nodded he understood. Then the two of them moved in to assist Tam onto Gren's back. “But~ if we happen ta run inta the band, Ah might say somethin' ta Verrago.”

“Away with ye, fockin' devious wench,” but there was hardly any fire to his tone as he was too busy pouting.

Gren was lightly laughing as he returned to his feet. He gave Callum a half-grin, “I'm starting to see why you like her.”

“Wait, what?” he sputtered truly confused.

But another crashing tree being knocked over caused them all to jump.

“No time. Lets go!” she lead the charge making sure to slow down her pace for Gren to keep up. Which, admittedly, he was not that slowed, even with someone on his back.

Together, they ran several meters more down the road, but it was not fast enough. The ground shook as the air filled with the uneven galloping from the golem giving chase. Looking back, it was already coming into view. It was sluggish compared to before thanks to a bow in one of its back legs, but by sheer size, it was still gaining on them.

“Quick! Into the forest!” Rayla skidded to a halt, and pointed to the east side of the road.

They followed her directions, heading into the brush. Following at the back, she became painfully aware the mistake in her plan. Though the trees gave them cover, the canopy blocked the moonlight. Without it, the humans were stumbling near blind in the dark.

“Go left, go left, go left!” Tam shouted until Gren did run left, thus avoiding a fallen log.

Unfortunately, Callum also turned to his left, which directed him into the very same log. His feet predictably caught the wood, and he was sent tumbling over it. Rayla easily leapt over the obstacle, and landed beside him. She grabbed under his arm to help him back up, but the teens froze hearing that now familiar warning gargle. It was Callum that dragged them both down into the dirt using the log as a barrier from the following blast.

She clung to him, slammed her eyes shut, and hoped the old lumber would be enough. His hold on her was just as bone crushing tight. Both flinched when tongues of fire tried to touch them both above, and through small holes in the rotting wood. Everything became permeated with the smell of smoke, and charcoal. The way even the ground grew hot, she was fairly certain this was what it felt like to be a roasted pheasant in the oven.

Before they were cooked alive, the blast stopped. She opened her eyes to be sure they were both still uncharred, and met his equally bewildered gaze. Though holding onto one another had not actually done anything to better protect them, there was mutual reluctance to let go. She could not explain it, but it simply felt safer to have him there. Their shelter was quickly smouldering to ashes, though, and, leaning up to check, the massive creature could be seen shoving aside the burnt trees to search for its prey. The way it snorted and huffed proved it was struggling to scent them among the cinders. Maybe- just maybe- if they stayed incredibly still, it would not see them either.

It may not have noticed them through sight or smell, but its focus locked on a little to the left of them when Gren called out, “Run!”

“Seriously? Shut yer fockin' mouth!” Tam's low, warning hiss was already too late as the beast lumbered towards the tree they had hidden behind.

Callum and Rayla had to scramble to avoid being stepped on. The great creature caught their movement at the corner of its peripherals, but when it turned its head to better look, it slammed into a tree. The mighty oak was already damaged from the fire's blast, and thus came tumbling down. It knocked the tree directly beside it, and that tree crashed down over the creature's head like a club. The resulting roar threatened to deafen everyone present, but the teens kept moving lest they be squished.

Back on the road, they were not given the chance to gather their wits as much smaller roars sounded from the west. Three far smaller, and more agile versions of the massive creature were weaving their way towards them. These ones were still big compared to an elf, but a much more manageable size. By his gasp, she could hazard a guess that Callum had seen them too. Hopefully that meant he would know to take cover.

Rayla on the other hand, had drawn her swords, and headed off the first. A snap of teeth. A twist in her steps to dodge. An expertly aimed slash that cut along the creature's shoulder to its flank, forcing it to turn away from her with a pained cry. All followed up by a quick somersault spared her from being smacked by its tail when it had whipped towards her as a counter attack. That somersault, however, sacrificed her ability to get her swords up in time for the second one's claws. She still tried, which took one of its front legs, but the second set of claws came so close to the top of her head that it snagged one of her horns.

She was aware of the audible _snap_ long before the searing pain shot through her skull. To make matters worse, the attack had split the horn, but had not severed it, thus she was dragged by the damaged appendage. The monster let her go as soon as she was down to screech about the arm that had been removed. Yet, light-headed with pain, that only left her vulnerable to the first one, again. It had leapt into the air with the intention to attack with all four sets of claws at once.

“ _Fulminis!_ ” Callum's voice carried through the trees.

She was nearly blinded when the lightning bolt blasted the coming golem. The impact sent the smaller stone being back into the trees with a surprised bark.

Alright, so maybe lightning could help against these things.

Knowing there were still two others, plus the giant one, she twisted, and jumped to her feet. She spotted the one with a stump howling, and whimpering feet from her. Its cries had apparently gained the attention of the giant one, as it looked in the direction of the little one, and then snarled its muddy lips at the closest target in its field of view. Which, of course, was a certain human Prince.

“Behind y'u!” Rayla shouted.

He made a single look over his shoulder, gave a frightened yelp, and ran. Since the hobbled leg left the beast unable to charge, and slash its claws at the same time, it was left with its bite, only. Which meant that it had a huge blind spot; enough for the fleeing human to slip through. After that, he disappeared even from her view into the trees.

 _Crunch_.

Rayla mentally scolded herself for not paying attention half a second before letting loose a scream. White hot agony ripped through her skin where the third small creature had chomped down on her already wounded shoulder. This was far worse than it being dislocated, and it was only getting worse by the second. The pressure threatened to collapse every bone within her collar and shoulder. Were it not for her armour top, those sharp fangs would have pierced deep enough to puncture her lung. As it was, it had still dug into flesh, and she could feel the warmth of her own blood slipping down. The force of the attack behind the bite had thrown her forward, but its hold on her kept her from falling to her knees.

A life time of conditioning- or perhaps just the instinct to survive- had her stab backwards. She felt her weapon pass into the animals head. It released her while yowling, but by pulling away, the creature had forced her hand to twist. Thus, since she had not let go, her blade twisted too. The noise stopped, and, in the same breath, it slumped to the ground.

Naturally, the entire ordeal captured the attention of the remaining monsters. Especially the giant one that locked onto her with a snarl. Between its teeth, it gurgled that pre-fire warning. At this angle, she could even see its throat vibrating, and the light from the first embers growing brighter. That is until two rapid succession lightning spells smacked into its head. The first forced its jowl closed, and the second hit directly in the eye making the golem turn away in pain.

“Ugh. Callum,” she grumbled, though still immensely grateful she had a second to breathe. She could have easily ducked behind one of the nearby trees, but now he had brought that thing's attention back onto himself.

Before she could even think about getting to him, though, she heard a heavy tread coming up behind her. A bipedal sound that was far too heavy to be human or elf. With a flick of her wrist, she untwisted her sword from the fallen creature's head. In a single pull, spin, and slash motion, she gained plenty of momentum to cleanly behead the returning first creature. As it fell, she readied for the last. As soon as she faced it, however, it tried to make itself appear smaller in a low crouch, and took a couple cautious steps backwards. She hesitated as she looked into those large, uncertain eyes. True, it was a magical construct, and not an actual living animal, but it was hard to remember that with the way it was watching her.

Not until it unexpectedly lunged at her, anyway. With the pain of its brethren's teeth still radiating through her shoulder, she did not hesitate a second time. Rayla jumped to the side, out of its attack, then swung hard against its snout. It shook its head at the pain, but rounded on her was a snap of its teeth almost as fast. After that, it would not allow her to get too close to it. With every swing of her sword, it bobbed out of her way. She was equally quick to dodge every tail swipe, and every snap of teeth. The clawed hand that remained came close enough to nick her cheek, and slice off a large portion of her hair braid.

Back and forth they went until the big one let forth its latest fire. Where she had been expecting it thanks to that stupid gargling noise, her opponent jumped with surprise. It turned its head away from her to watch the flames burning everything a mere two meters from its tail. She took the opening, and plunge her blade into its chest. It hardly made a sound before it finally fell limp.

As much as she wanted to use this chance to make a run for the big one's head, the fight had winded her. Trying to catch her breath through the open bite wound felt like it was sapping her energy all the faster. She set the hand of her good arm against the injury in a vane attempt to slow some of the bleeding. In an attempt to focus herself, her eyes searched the trees to figure out which one Callum had hopefully taken shelter behind. Please, let that stupid human be safe.

Speaking of stupid humans... Gren ran out onto the road, wildly waving his arms in the air. “Hey! Down here!”

The beast halted it fire with a firm clamp of its jaw. It tilted its huge head to better see him, only for several knives to become embedded in its eye; courtesy of Tam who was half hidden where Gren had just appeared from. The beast began to furiously scratch at its eyes to dislodge the weapons. As it did, Tam vanished into the brush, and Gren made a dash to her side of the road.

“Rayla!” Callum nearly tripped as he raced to her side. His clothing was burnt in places, and he was covered in soot, but he was alive, and whole. His bright eyes verged on panic the moment he was close enough to make out the perfect, blotchy 'U' going from her shoulder down the one side of her chest.

In that same moment, Gren reached them, “Are you, two, alright?”

“Rayla's been bit,” he anxiously answered first.

Putting on a brave face, she responded as calmly as she could, “Ah'll be fine. We need ta figure out wha' ta do abou' tha' thing.” She ended with a nod of her head towards the still thrashing creature. Doing this, however, agitated her split horn, causing her to wince.

For a quick second, as they glanced the direction she indicated, Tam came into view once more. He threw a knife meant for the other eye- which struck into the upper eyelid-, and then vanished just as quick as he had appeared. Those sharp claws were throwing aside trees as it angrily tried to find him. As skilled as he was, Rayla had noticed the stumble in Tam's execution; no doubt his leg was killing him pulling off such movements.

“Your friend mentioned something about a blue stone,” Gren swiftly provided, but then awkwardly frowned. “But I think he kept switching to elven because I couldn't understand him.”

Rayla sighed, “No, Ah can guarantee he was speakin' common. Westies are just hard ta understand.”

Plus, she knew Tam's accent tended to get worse when he was stressed or riled up. Still, it would have been nice to know what he had meant by 'a blue stone'. She would have to get near him to ask.

“It's weak against water,” Callum firmly countered. “If we can lead it back to the river, it will be washed away.”

Water... of course, the stupid thing was weak against water.

A pensive look crossed Gren's freckled features as he looked off in the direction of the river. “I don't know if I can convince it to run into the water, again.” Then he turned his eyes to the Primal stone, before meeting Callum's gaze. “But, maybe you can use your magic to bring the water to it!”

He glanced down at the sparking stone, “I don't know if I have any spells with me that can do that.” Then he perked up, “But I might be able to make it rain!”

Great, Rayla inwardly grumbled. It was better than going for a swim, but rain was still wet. If it meant bringing down this thing, though, it would be worth it.

With an agonized grimace, she handed Gren the blade in her injured arm. His mouth fell open evidently surprised she was handing it to him, but accepted it none-the-less. She nodded to him, and then, to Callum, said, “We'll distract it. Y'u worry abou' makin' the biggest storm y'u can.”

She noticed his eyes fall to her wound, and he cringed, “I don't think you should be fighting anymore.”

“He's right. Any further blood loss would be terrible for your, uh,” Gren glanced down, then finished while meeting her eyes once more, “condition.”

She knit her brow, “Wha-”

The loudest, angriest roar yet cut her off. The monster was pulling it head out of the forest wildly thrashing its body, and scratching at its other eye, again.

“He's blinded it!” Rayla cheered. “Come on. Now's our chance.”

With that, she charged without waiting for Gren to follow. Even blinded and hobbled, this thing was going to be a challenge. She only hoped she could hold it off long enough for their plan to work.

\--

Dang it, why was she running off to go fight that thing?! He knew she could fight- he had seen her do so several times now- but this was different. She did not have use of her right arm. Not without causing herself pain.

And now Gren was running towards the monster too. The commander was an amazing fighter in his own right, but that thing was huge!

He needed to slow that thing down before it killed one of them!

Slipping behind the nearest tree, Callum flipped through his sketch book to the cheat page. He remembered writing a rain spell down, but with so much riding on him being able to do it, he had to make sure he did it right. He mentally traced the rune several times. It was another 'Aspiro' curved 'V' shape. This time, the tail looked like a horseshoe that was taller on one side. Muttering the words, he realized that he was probably going to need to take a deep breath to preform it. Something his burning lungs really did not want to do right now.

All the thumping, crashing, and animalistic noises firmly reminded him he needed to do this, anyway. Okay, he could do this. He was a mage, and his friends needed him. With a roar as his signal, he stepped out of his meagre hiding space, raised the Primal stone, and drew out the rune.

“ _Aspiro Pluvi_!”

He took in as deep a breath as he could. His entire chest protested from the effort, but he refused to let that stop him. His skin felt like water had been dumped onto his head despite the only moisture being his own sweat, and where the river splash had hit him. Then his throat filled with a different burning. It was the same feeling one got when they accidentally breathed in their own spit. Unintentionally, he began to cough; each exhale sent a puff of steamy breath the same as if it had been winter. He tried to salvage the spell with a sharp intake. It carried that horrible scratchy, burning sensation down into every part of his lungs. Still, squinting his eyes against the pain, he blew everything he had inside him.

Just as with the fog spell, as the steam came out, it expanded. All of it travelled up and up until it vanished above the trees. Heavily panting, he looked up through the burnt part of the canopy trying to see what he had managed. There was now obvious clouds blocking out the starlight, but not enough to fill the night sky. As he watched, he was rewarded with a droplet onto his nose. Another fell onto his shoulder, and then another in his hair.

He had done it! It was raining! A light drizzle, to be honest, but still rain!

“Yes!” he whooped. With a proud grin on his face, he checked on his friends.

The golem-dragon-thing curiously turned its head up. It did not seem to understand what was hitting its body from above, and growled at it. Some droplets must have got it in the nose as it suddenly sneezed. With it distracted, Gren had moved in to strike one leg, while Rayla was climbing onto its back from the haunch. After the commander gave the heel's tendon a slash, the creature yowled, and was right back to trying to kill them.

He was about to draw another fulminis to help when he thought better of it. If he shocked the wet animal, the lightning could hit Rayla too. His thoughts raced through the list of spells in his book. Just as he started to consider two of them- a wind bluster spell, and the ice spell- the rain stopped.

“What?!” Callum looked up through the branches. He could just see that the few clouds he had made were already starting to disperse. But it had been so short lived that it had hardly put out some of the flaming trees near him. This had to be because he had not expected to start coughing.

Once more, he drew the rain rune. “ _Aspiro Pluvi_!”

Though he choked, he managed to not start coughing this time. By the time he had finished blowing the steam into the air, he staggered from becoming woozy. He was happy to see that more than a few clouds now covered the sky. Despite doing everything correctly, though, when the rain fell it was still only a steady drizzle. He sighed his frustration. Looking at the monster while it was spinning in place trying to get Rayla off of its tail, it did not look like any part of it was being affected, yet.

But water would work! The dip in the river had proven that. They just needed a lot more rain than this. The issue was that this was literally the only rain spell he had with him. Why was there not a storm summon spell on that paper? That had to be a thing, right? Maybe if he kept repeating the rain spell, the overlap would make a storm.

That was when it hit him; he could combine the spells! After all, a storm was just a lot of wind, rain, and lightning. He had all the parts he needed. He just needed to somehow mix them... if that was even possible. Well, it had to be possible because of Aspiro. The note had said it was the base of several spells, and Callum had already preform three spells that did, in fact, begin with the wind breath spell. So, maybe if he drew the rain spell, but added a second and third horseshoe-like tail... and then drew fulminis beside that rune...

It might work, but he still did not have a spell word.

Did he actually need the spell word to be some fancy magical language, though? The fact Tam and Gren were swatted like a couple of flies by a single well timed swipe made up his mind that he needed to try, regardless.

He nervously gulped as he drew his hybrid rune. It did not blow up, so that was a good sign. Though it was worrying that the storm within the primal stone was rumbling with increased intensity. By the time he had drawn the third horseshoe-like tail, the air in his lungs was like lead. He could feel the static in his fingers as he moved on to the fulminis rune.

“I hope this works,” he whispered to himself. Then, in a voice that was as loud as thunder, he bellowed, “ _Aspiro Storm_!”

The rune crackled. Then, as he breathed in, it shot down his throat. Callum found he could no longer breathe. His chest would not expand or contract to his will. Worse still, every muscle in his body was suddenly paralyzed. Then, starting from his chest, a powerful force ran through the entirety of his body. Every blood vessel glowed a blue-white light, and he was blinded by that same light filling his eyes.

Then the warm sensation shot through his brain. All at once, he felt light, like a cloud. A wind began to circle around him like a growing twister. Though he could not see it, he could hear the lightning bolts coming off of him in waves. Suddenly, he could breath again... but he could also feel the way every fibre of himself was on fire. At least, it felt like he was on fire, and something was trying to squeeze water from him to put that fire out. His mouth opened, but, instead of a scream, thunder roared out.

Every breath in was like he was drowning. Every breath out, he might as well be spitting boiling water. It would not stop. In and out. The wind was a haunting howl in his ears. In and out. The gale force had become messenger birds, snatching the clouds made by each exhale, and carrying it off into the sky.

Oh, the spell had worked. He could feel the downpour soak him to the bone, and sizzle on his skin. It had worked, but it was literally killing him to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I could not wait anymore. I was trying to hold off until Thursday, but you guys have been so wonderful. Plus my updates have already been sporadic.  
> Anyway, you didn't think they got away from Mama draocani that easy, did you? These poor kids... I put them through so much. But~ We know that help is on the way ;)  
> As always, thank you all so much for all your amazing support, and comments. Wishing you all the best <3


	31. The Sunken Bloom

Could this animal not go any faster?!

Runaan urged his borrowed horse to keep going. It had already been running at top speed for well over an hour, and was evidently slowing from exhaustion. Were he calmer, he might have eased up. Right now, however, he needed it to go faster. He had no idea how much farther this lodge was, but he knew Rayla was close. Close enough that he had heard her scream.

It was a sound he hoped he would never have to bare witness to ever again.

As much as he tried not to dwell on the matter, dreadful imaginings of what could have pulled such a shrill from her throat kept trying to cloud his thoughts. He reminded himself that a scream meant she still had function of her lungs. Given the great roar from the adult draocani was coming from the same direction, however, that still left a thousand other possibilities. Impaled on a claw. Bitten in half. Burned alive. Would he be arriving to find that thing's young feasting on her corpse?

Then he felt the shift in the air; someone was casting magic. It did not bare the vial corruption of dark magic, either. That's when something tapped his cheek. He raised his fingers to wiped the spot, and discovered a drop of water. Another one landed in his palm, and he glanced up. Sure enough, the once clear night now bore a handful of rain clouds.

“Is this Callum's doing?” King Harrow was also watching the new clouds spread out.

“It is likely,” he plainly answered. He was more interested in the fact the clouds were as sparse as they were. He did not, personally, know a great deal about sky magic, but rain summoning was supposedly one of the first spells sky mages learned. For a child that had so easily done the Ice Wind spell not even twenty-four hours ago, this spell's execution was pitiful. It was hard to say what this might mean in regards to the mage Prince's abilities.

“He might be trying to put out the fire,” the King spoke with obvious contemplation in his tone. “This may mean they've won.”

Alas, his words were followed by another giant roar; the adult draocani still lived. Then, as anticipated, the rains ended fairly quickly. A few moments later, more clouds appeared. This time, the spell was far more solid, and the falling rain was a steady rhythm. This was what Runaan expected to see a practised mage achieve. Perhaps the first had been interrupted, then. Whatever they were doing, it was aggravating the summoned monster.

They came around a bend, and, at long last, the beast came into view. It was evidently busy battling three parties on the road that it did not notice their approach. The monster spun in place, trying to shake the elf on its tail. Runaan's hold on the reins tightened when he realized it was Rayla on that thing's tail. What was she doing?! She only appeared to have one of her swords, and was evidently favouring her left side.

He quickly readied his bow, and notched an arrow. In the time it took to aim, Tam and the ginger human he recognized as the commander from that morning, were swatted aside. He loosed the arrow, sending it soaring. It struck deep between the rocks that made up its shoulder. The beast instantly stopped spinning, and roared. Though the noise shook the earth, and startled the horses, it was nothing to the sudden boom of thunder coming from the burning forest.

Through the trees, lightning could be seen striking every direction from a single point. That point being a certain human who's very body radiated with magical energy. The raining increased to a full on torrential downpour. The howling winds threatened to blow Runaan and Harrow from their horses. He had to take the reins as his animal tried to suddenly turn back around. It bucked against his directions letting out panicked cries. With an aggravated huff, Runaan swung himself off the mount, and let the poor creature run for its life. He did not need it to help him fight, anyway.

Meanwhile, the draocani could not seem to make up its mind where to attack. It turned its head their way, but was just as quick to snarl towards the casting Mage. It was not an angry snarl, though. In fact, the great beast took a cautious step back from the boy. When it did, the back leg it had put most of its weight on buckled. Some wet mud squirted from the joint.

So that was what the boy was doing.

Sure enough, as the sky drenched the earth, parts of the monster were melting. The rocks were shifting as the mud inside leaked from every crack, and deformed its body. It opened its muddy maw; even from this distance, Runaan could hear its fire breath charging. He shot another arrow into the junction of its jowl which promptly distracted it from its own attack.

In the same moment it turned to look their direction, King Harrow had regained control of his horse, and was stampeding towards it. A flash of lightning illuminated the metal sticking out of the beast's eyes. Still, it was 'looking' at the charging human. Thus, its sight was likely damaged, not blinded, he realized. For good measure, Runaan rapid fired an arrow for each eye. Unfortunately, the wind caught them both, sending them off course. Though one went far off from the target, the other still became embedded in the point between the eyes.

It yowled while wildly shaking its head leaving King Harrow free to attack. His strange sword did more than cut the front leg; it completely severed it. No longer able to balance, the draocani fell forward. As it did, Runaan spotted Rayla running down the beast's back. There was not a single stutter or slip, despite the speed she was going over those slick rocks. Then, when a powerful jump- the kind he had only every seen her manage during a full moon- she rose above the head, and drove her blade down. Her sword sunk down to its hilt, shattering the stone that made up the creature's forehead.

The beast's movements ceased immediately. Its head dropped forcing Rayla to run and jump lest she be thrown to the ground. Only after she safely landed on the road did the tightness within his chest release. She first checked that the creature was not going to attack again, then her attention shot towards him.

There was a weary cheer to her voice as she called to him, “Runaan.”

Discomfort twisted within his stomach. He was supposed to pretend she was not there, not ten feet from him, soaked, and battered, yet looking at him with such relief and hope. His heart felt numb as he forced himself to look away from her.

“You know our laws,” his voice was quiet to hide the shame he felt. He could not say for certain if those words were meant for her... or himself.

Another boom of thunder from ground level help distract him. Runaan turned to see that the Prince was still casting his spell. Now that he was closer, he could see the boy's face was contorted in pain. The boy was trying to scream, thus the thunderous booming that echoed from him instead. In his hand, the primal stone continually pulsed with magical energy. Each time it did, the winds picked up, and several more random lightning bolts fired. He had become the eye of the storm, and, by the looks of it, it was going to destroy him from the inside out.

Not far off, the King had dismounted his horse, and was running to his son. The man was abruptly stopped by a stray lightning bolt hitting the ground in front of him. “Callum!”

From the corner of his eye, Runaan saw Rayla dash to the fallen draocani. Glancing her way, she yanked her sword from the rubble, and then went straight for the Prince. His resolve came crashing down. Against what was his duty, he called out to her, “Rayla. Don't!”

She did not stop. So, he gave chase, hoping to stop her before she got too close to the danger. His own path was halted by a powerful gust of wind. Even bracing his feet, he felt himself sliding back almost an entire inch. He was forced to raise his arms to keep random debris from flinging into his face. The rain was getting stronger that it felt as though he had stepped beneath a waterfall. When he risked a peek, the forest had practically vanished. Without any source of light, he could only make out the mage Prince's aura in the dark.

Lightning flashed overhead, returning his vision for only a second. It was plenty long enough for him to see where the others were at. Including a certain young elf who was well within the danger zone. “Rayla!”

\--

Rayla had heard him, of course, but she would not back down. Callum needed help, and she would show Runaan that she could be the one to do it. She knew that she just needed to get the stone out of his hand. Not even the rain pelting her wound like continuous stabs would stop her. With the help of her blade's hook function, she dragged herself closer and closer. It was agonizing to do, but she kept her right arm raised to block the water from her eyes. The wild winds tried to throw her away from him more than once, but she held firm; even when the gusts jostled her injured horn. Lightning struck dangerously close to beside her making her pause.

Close behind her, she heard metal sinking into the ground. She glanced over her shoulder to see that the King of Katolis was using his sword the same as she was hers to inch closer. His face a determined grimace as he was solely focus on Callum. Not even a lightning bolt going over his head to strike the tree next to him cause him to waver.

Good. Between the two of them, they could definitely help Callum.

With that, she forced herself to start moving, again. She gave a frightened yelp when a particularly strong wind actually managed to lift her off the ground for one heart stopping second. Then she came crashing down; her knees giving a painful jolt upon landing. After that, there was a brief lull in the spell, giving her the opening she needed.

Using her planted sword for momentum, she sprung forward, slamming herself into Callum's torso. In doing so, he crashed down with her, and the primal stone fell from his hand. What she had not anticipated was the spell to give one last barrage of bolts to explode from his body. She felt the pain strike her chest for maybe half a millisecond. After that, the world went white.

Back in Xadia, another light went out, and the flower holding it sunk.

\--

Not in his lifetime had Ethari seen so many elves gather around the heartbloom fountain. Rhanona and Innes had returned after successfully delaying the bands' ghosting, and, with them, council members and citizens had gathered wanting to know the truth. Under their watchful eyes, he painted a collection of glittering runes on his wrists. After the last small details were dotted on, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and whispered, “ _Cerdere per aqual_.”

The runes made a gentle light, and his body suddenly felt cold. He leaned forward, and touched the water's surface. His fingers sunk into the water as normal, but they did not cause a single ripple. Test complete, he eased himself over the edge. The fountain sunk a little further down than the rim, so the water actually came up to his hips. Still, nothing was disturbed by him wading through. Ethari extended his hand to where Innes waited by the edge. She handed him a short hook tool that he needed in order to collect the fallen flower without getting the paint on his wrist wet.

Tool in hand, he carefully picked his way to the lost heartbloom. It took all his will to ignore the other five that were bobbing and dancing around him while he worked. Careful not to bother the flowers, lest they loose their connection to their owners, he used the hook to fish out Seumas' bloom. As he pulled it up, the one with a pink gem light tipped. He worried he might have damaged the magic by mistake, but, after a moment's pause, he noticed the gem still flicker. Low whispers sounded around him as he glanced back at Rhanona.

She met his sorrowful gaze, then sharply looked down at the half-sunk metal flower. Even from here he could see her clench her jaw. Glancing down at the flower, he dare not imagine what sort of suffering the owner was facing.

There was no time to dwell on that, however. It was with a heavy heart he ferried Seumas' dulled bloom back to the edge. He handed it and the tool off, and the hoisted himself up, and out. Already, members of the high council were inspecting the metal flower. Thankfully, one of them was Councillor Shug; an old moon mage that had gained grand mage status back in his day. The Councillor drew runes in the air around the heartbloom, muttering incantations Ethari did not recognize. Most of them seemed to fizzle out of existence without doing anything until one suddenly sunk into the gem.

For a moment, the bloom gave off green light the same as it had when Seumas was alive. That light slowly rose up, and shifted into a miniature glowing version of the deceased assassin.

“It's still tied ta his magic, then?” Ethari correctly guessed.

The Councillor nodded, “It still bares a piece of his signature, but it is fading fast.”

“Ah've already started cooking the arrow thorns,” he advised. “They should be ready by this afternoon.”

Shug waved his hand, dispelling the small illusion, “Thank you, Ethari. I serenely hope Seumas, and the others, have not befallen dark magic. But if it is so, ghosting them would have been a great injustice against them.”

“Come aff it, ye auld focker,” Rhanona sharply growled at a volume that nearly echoed. “The lad disnae need yer fancy fockin' words. He needs ye ta rally the fockin' Alliance, 'n' bring his husband 'n' wean home.”

Her words were met with a cold glare from Councillor Beatris, “We do not know yet if your theory is correct. Rallying the Alliance now without proper evidence could have a dire backlash on the Grove should it be false in the end.”

Rhanona scoffed, “ 'N' if ye are wrong, yer delayin' helpin' our best.”

“She is right, ta a degree,” Councillor Domnall exchanged a look with Rhanona through his one good eye. The other was covered by a band to hide the grizzly scars from battles fought long, long ago. “At the least we should be sendin' word ta the provinces ta warn warn them o' our suspicions.”

But Councillor Beatris shook her head, “Without evidence, it will look like we are making excuses for our team's failure.”

Councillor Shug raised his hand to silence them both, “This is a matter that will need to be discussed to the Council as a whole. Abi,” he addressed the silent assistant behind him. “Please send word that there is to be a meeting for the entirety of the Moonshadow Senate at the host of the Silvergrove.”

Rhanona gave Ethari a coy smirk, and he let the gratitude show in his own features. It was not a rally of the Alliance, but it would help move along the proceedings to already have the entire Moonshadow Senate in one place.

Suddenly, Innes covered her mouth and gasped. He looked to see that she was watching the fountain. Meanwhile, he was certain he had just heard a small ' _ploop_ ' from a flower sinking. He suspected he knew which flower it had been... until Rhanona gave him a look now. Not a look of one who had just lost one of their own, but one of condolences to someone else that had. A fearful dread crawled up his spine, and he spun around to check. Indeed, only four flowers were floating; Verrago's still precariously tilted.

He searched out the teal one that was Runaan's. It was not bobbing anymore, so he was no longer in danger for the moment. The light at the centre, however, was rapidly pulsing indicating he was in some sort of distress. Ethari quickly searched the remaining two. Tam's... Lucca's... but not Rayla's.

“No,” he could hardly catch his breath. He braced his hands on the fountain's edge because he doubted he could hold himself up otherwise. This... this could not be. But even checking again, not one of the four was hers. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his heart shattered. Not her. Please no, not Rayla. She was far too young to have died.

Yet, as hands reached out to support him, he knew the truth. She was gone.

More tears streamed down as he openly sobbed. Someone looped their arm under his, and pulled.

“Come on, lad. Lets get ye inside,” all gruffness was gone from Rhanona's weathered voice. She pulled again, and this time, he allowed her to lead him away. Complete silence followed them to the steps leading to his home. A home he and his beloved had opened to, and shared with a spirited little girl. A home he had watched her grow from a wee thing getting herself into mischief, into a proud, and happy adolescent.

A home that was never going to feel the same without her.

\--

As soon as the winds had stopped, King Harrow ran the last few feet to Callum's side. He threw himself to his knees, and scooped the boy into his arms. It was heart wrenching to see deep-red, burn marks cover his body in an ivy like pattern.

“Callum,” He gently shook him hoping to rouse him.

Yet, the young Prince eye's remained closed. With every small shake, he was a motionless rag-doll. The King push Callum's watered down hair to the side so he could watch for even the slightest facial cue.

“Speak to me, son,” he softly pleaded. When he still did not get a response, he lifted him to place his ear against the his chest. By the paragon's mercy, he could make out the even in and out whoosh of breathing, and the rhythmic thumping of an, albeit slow, heartbeat.

King Harrow released the breath he had not realized he was holding. Though he was in terrible need of a doctor, Callum was alive.

At that moment, the assassin leader, Runaan, had sunk to Rayla's equally prone form.

“Rayla,” he quietly spoke. Real, true fear visibly shone on his face. For a moment, his hands hovered over her as though he were afraid to touch her. Then it passed, and he flipped her from her side to her back. He gave one hard shake, “Rayla, wake up.”

The same as Callum, she did not stir. Still cradling the Prince, King Harrow once again found his blood pressure rising. This was the second time, that he knew of, that she had saved his son's life by endangering her own. He no longer cared that she was an elf; she deserved the thanks of Katolis. He waited on baited breath as Runaan leaned his ear over her mouth, and slipped his fingers to feel her pulse.

Then, bright blue eyes widened with horror.

“No...” his voice nothing more than a quiet gasp. Runaan shot up, and gave her a desperate shake. “Rayla, no. Please... you can't... please come back.” Despite his pleas, she did not move.

King Harrow's heart clenched. This was not right. She could not be... Truthfully, she had taken a lightning strike straight to the chest, but Callum had also been electrocuted, and he was alive. Would the paragon really be so cruel?

Moisture had gathered in Runaan's eyes. He clenched his fists on his knees, and bowed his head with defeat. “I am sorry, my little blade. You didn't deserve this. I-” he paused to take in a stuttered breath. “I was mistaken.”

The King looked down at the fallen girl. He could not understand it; why would they take someone so young? Could Lady Justice not afford this one mercy to give this brave child a long, and fulfilling life? Perhaps if she had drowned from the rains instead, at least then he would know a way to bring her back.

... Granted, who was to say that way would not work here too?

“Do you know CPR?” he hurriedly asked while laying Callum down.

Runaan glanced up with annoyance, “What?”

“CPR. Its a technique meant to restart the heart. Here, move aside,” he rushed around to kneel.

Though Runaan gave him a distrusting look, he did as asked.

Okay, now to remember how this was supposed to go. He knew the first step was to check for a breath or pulse, which the assassin leader had already done. Next was to give the victim his breath. Uh... pinch the nose so the air would go down to her lungs. Oh, and tilt the head back to ensure the wind pipe was open. After following his own mental instructions, he took a deep breath, and passed it on to her. One...two... three... and again.

Now with air in her lungs, he needed to be her heartbeat for her. He set the heel of one hand at the centre of her chest, and used the other hand to press down. Unfortunately, her armour did not have enough give to properly compress.

“Her armour is in the way,” he searched her side for the clasps to undo it. He found that unlike human breastplates, however, this piece did not have side clasps.

Suddenly, he was roughly shoved aside. He shot Runaan an annoyed look, prepared to explain his actions, but stopped when he noticed he was reaching under her holster. A second later, wide seams appeared on the armour's sides and shoulders where there had originally been intricate designs. The front plate was pulled away, and then Runaan moved back again. His hard look spoke for him: Save her.

King Harrow jumped back into action. Her under armour was much more forgiving, allowing him to properly press down. “One, one thousand. Two, two thousand. Three!” With every single digit number he muttered, he drove his hands down, flattening her ribs to pump her heart. At 'three', he moved to hover his ear over her mouth, and pressed his fingers to her neck. There was still a lack of breathing, and it was almost eerie to not feel a pulse.

Once again, he gave her two breathes, and three chest compressions. Then a third time. Then a fourth. After a while, he was not sure how many times he had done it. He simply knew that each passing second increased the chance she would not come back. She had to live. This _had_ to work.

In a moment of frustration, he pressed down a bit harder than he had intended. The motion violently shook her body, and then...

She started coughing. King Harrow immediately stopped to help sit her up. “That's it. Deep breathes.”

Rayla heaved, and gagged as her body remembered how to function.

“It's a miracle!” Runaan was breathless as he reached out to hold her cheek.

Once the coughing stopped, she groaned. She peeked through heavy lids at them bring smiles to both men's faces. Those smiles vanished a heartbeat later when she dropped back to limp. This time when King Harrow set his ear over her mouth, warm air tickled the skin. Touching her neck, he discovered a steady pulse, and sighed with relief.

Meeting Runaan's worried gaze, he gave a reassuring smile, “It's alright. She simply passed out.”

With that, he shuffled so that he could hand her off. It felt odd to him, watching this deadly killer become so incredibly tender as he held his charge close. But then King Harrow thought about it- about how this man was reacting as any father would towards their child- and he realized that despite one of them being an elf, and the other a human, it was the same instinct. A bond he fully understood through his own sons.

One of whom was still missing...

“The Banther lodge is about five minutes by horse down the road. There is a medicine kit in the back room on the second floor that you can use to tend to her wounds,” he moved to his feet.

Runaan glanced up. There was still the ever present calculated caution to his eyes, but it was nice to see a lack of hatred behind it. “And what will you do?”

“I still need to find Prince Ezran, and make sure he's alright. Hopefully the dragon egg is also safe with him. After which I will meet with you at the lodge per our agreement.”

Because against it all, they were still enemies. He was still the King that had slayed Thunder, and Runaan was still the leader of the assassins hired to exact revenge. He would not dare entertain the idea that saving Rayla would forgive him for his crimes.

The assassin looked down into the face of his child, seeming to also think about this mess they were in. With his silence, King Harrow moved with the intention of scooping up Callum to move him to better cover against a tree. There was a small ' _clink_ ' when his toe tapped the glass artifact. He was not sure how he felt looking at the thing that had almost killed one of his sons. He wanted to boot it into the forest, but he had no idea if keeping it away from Callum would make things better or worse. It was better to not take any chances, so he tucked it away back in Callum's jacket pocket.

Finally lifting him, the King was taken back to the time his step-son had fallen asleep during Yule waiting up late to see the Yule Ghost. The servants had offered to carry him to his bed, but he opted to do so instead. If only lifting a teenager was as easy as carrying a seven year old.

“I will take him with me to this lodge, as well,” Runaan also moved to his feet, and lifted his own child with ease. “I can tend to his spell burn while you search for your lost boy.”

King Harrow once again took in the array of angry welts lining Callum's skin. Some medicine, and a warm, dry bed were certainly in order. He met the elf's eyes, “Thank you.”

Since one horse had run away, it was decided the children would be carried on the back, and Runaan would lead the horse by foot. They quietly worked together to get the pair settled so that neither would fall off. As they did, Runaan calmly added, “If you should encounter my team, the code word is 'Lunabloom'. They will know not to attack you or your people unless any harm comes to them.”

“I will inform my soldiers and medics as soon as they arrive.” Then, on a crazy whim born from exhaustion and stress, he extended his hand. “Thank you for understanding.”

The elven leader looked at the offered hand with a deep frown. After a moment, he sighed, and took it with his own. As they shook, he reluctantly spoke, “I suppose it is I who should be thanking you for aiding Rayla in her time of need. Though I still cannot fathom how, or that this 'CPR' actually worked.”

The King chuckled, “To be fair, I am equally surprised it worked.”

And there was that spiteful, frowning look again. He supposed that was fair. Runaan said nothing else as he took the reins, and lead the horse away. It was while the King turned to the rubble that had once been the rock monster that a voice rang out.

“Uh. Excuse me. Your Majesty?”

King Harrow looked around himself, but struggled to see anything through the deluge.

“Up here.”

He followed the voice to a tree at the road's side. It was thanks to a flash of lightning he found the owner. High up, precariously cradled in the branches, Gren waved. “I'm sorry to trouble you, but I seem to be stuck.”

\--

They had made it up maybe eight steps before Councillor Shug shouted, “Wait!”

With his call also rose whispers. Ethari stopped, and waited for the councillor to speak.

He motioned to the fountain, and, in a tone of utter disbelief, said, “Look!”

He and Rhanona stepped to the stair ledge to better see the water. There, the metal flowers calmly floated along. Some of the lights were flickering with distress, but they were no longer bobbing. Then he realized, once again, there were _five_ metal flowers.

“Whit... how?” Rhanona's mouth actually hung open.

Ethari had no idea, but he had to be sure it was not a trick of his grief. He raced back down to the fountains edge, and the gathered people parted to let him pass. Once there, he counted, and recounted, and became more delighted each time he reached the number five. Relief brought a smile to his face, “She's alive.”

But, in a bitter after thought he wondered, for how much longer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. The cliche 'CPR saves a main character's life'. But come on, I was NOT killing off Rayla this way.  
> I was just giving Runaan a swift kick in his stubborn ass, that's all.  
> Send me a sad face in the comments if this chapter actually made you cry! (Here's mine: T.T)  
> Also, I would like to note there were a couple details in which King Harrow was technically doing the the process wrong (because he's a King. Not a doctor). Which brings me to my small public service announcement *steps on podium* please do not attempt CPR or other such first aid/medical practices without proper training first. Thank you.  
> Also, did you know: the first form of CPR (called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation) has actually only existed since the late 1950s? That means there are people alive today who are older than the practice!  
> As always, thank you all so so much for reading, and I look forward to sharing the next chapter as soon as I can.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Encyclopedia of Elves announcement at the end of the chapter!

There were only three left thanks to Verrago's attack, but three juveniles were still dangerous. Especially since neither he, nor the humans had weapons in hand. While Lucca was- for now- safely tucked up in a tree, the humans had wisely attempted to make a dash for the river. Unfortunately for them, the draocani were faster. The man that looked like a hunter had managed to climb into a tree to get away. One human became the latest meal to those fangs, which left a woman in full plate armour doing all she could to stay one step ahead of the last beast.

Lucca knew he should be taking this chance to get his spear, but he did not. Instead, hiding on a low tree branch, he closed his eyes to clearly picture what he wanted. Though the surrounding fire was trying to block the moonlight, there was still plenty enough hitting his skin to cast. He drew out a rune, and muttered the incantation. Without opening his eyes, the world came back into view. The eyes he now looked through were low to the ground, and had a snout and tusks in the way. With a great squeal, he made hoofed feet charge around the draocani. Naturally, a fast moving, noisy animal caught the stone creature's prey drive, and they gave chase.

The illusion boar did not get as far as he had hoped before it was grabbed. But it had given the armoured woman time to hide, which had been the point. There... a favour repaid for throwing his spear to protect Verrago.

With that, Lucca opened his eyes which immediately released the spell. He prepared to make an acrobatic leap to the next tree to make a move for his spear when a bigger, louder draocani call split the air. So the adult had awoken too; he had been hoping Tam's earth magic had not been _that_ good. Worse yet, by the sounds of it, she was to the east of here.

The trio of young all turned their heads in the direction of the call. They each gave a happy trill, and ran off to meet with their mother. As soon as they were out of sight, Lucca dropped from the tree. He yanked free his spear, and followed after them. Even on a full moon night, he was unlikely to have caught up with them. For the sake of his mission, and his surviving teammate, he had to try. He only made it to the edge of a clearing when a giant, burning tree came crashing down. The size of the trunk was too large for him to risk trying to run under it before it hit the ground, so he came to an immediate stop. His arms raised to shield his eyes from the spray of sparks.

Thanks to the increased heat from the white flames, the fire had caught more and more of the surrounding forest. He realized he would sooner die from heat stroke, and dehydration than reach the lodge. As much as he wanted to go help, he needed to survive to be of any use. Which is what lead his feet to the river. The remaining two humans were also heading that way together. At the banks edge, they noticed him, and took on defensive postures. Lucca rolled his eyes, more interested in inspecting the water.

This part of the river was littered with rapids. Though the current itself did not look to be fast, it was riddled with rocks. As an elf, and with his weapon, he could likely clear the rocks across to the cliff on the other side. He doubted the humans would be able to do the same. From the corner of his eye, he peered at the two pitiful beings. They were still cautiously watching him, but inching closer to the edge. They were going to try to swim this, he realized. He had to give their instincts to live some credit where it was do, but as beaten and bruised as they were, they were never going to survive the swim.

For some reason, he was abundantly aware of the moon's light on him, and the way the fire's light glinted off the woman's metal armour. He thoughts of Seumas, and Runaan; unknowing which one was dead, and which was still being held prisoner. He thought of Tam's wounds, and Verrago's last stand. Finally, he had thought of Rayla, and how she would probably show these humans compassion.

Innes would do the same.

Lucca's head shot back and forth as he checked the bank. There, just a few feet behind him, stood a sturdy, young tree tilting over the river. Though it was burnt on the one side, it was miraculously not on fire. Looking the humans dead in the eyes, he made a gesture towards it, “This way.”

He turned and ran to it, not caring if the humans decided to follow or not. Honestly, with how numb his legs felt, he was liking the idea of crossing by tree bridge instead of skipping stones for himself, too. It took only a couple well placed slices at the exposed roots to detach it from the bank. It fell between the rocks, locking it in place against the water's current. Finally, he gave the humans one last passing look before shooting off across the make-shift bridge. Now, if they did not survive from here on, it was on them.

Reaching the minuscule bank on the other side, a light drizzle had begun to come down. He paused to look up at the sparse clouds now scattered over the stars. With each drop against his skin, he could feel the magical energy from within it. Upon hearing the fire sizzling, he quirked an eyebrow; was the mage prince trying to put out the fire? If he was, he really needed to consider something bigger than a basic rain spell. Granted, if the boy truly was new to magic, he likely only knew a basic rain spell. That he had preformed poorly, at that, which countered his feat at preforming the Ice Wind spell.

Lucca would not admit it, but the inner mage in him kind of wanted to meet this boy, and see for himself what he was capable of. He supposed he could, eventually. First, he needed to get up this bluff.

Planning out his path, he stepped up onto the nearest river stone. Then, vaulted himself up with all the power in his legs, he crammed one end of his spear into the cliff face. He aimed his feet to find a ledge to balance on before making the next jump.

Except, he did not get the chance to do the next jump. The tiny ledge he had picked out from ground level was just loose stone that gave out the moment he tried to put some weight on it. Normally, this would not be an issue thanks to his wedged spear, but the rain had made the smooth metal slick. That, combined with his own momentum pulling him down, he could not keep his grip.

Though he had not been high in the air, the wind was knocked from his lungs when his back slammed down onto one of the smooth river stones. He scrambled to try to grab onto that same rock as the current tried to take him. The rock was far too smooth, though, and so he was forcefully shoved into the next waiting bolder. Flailing his limbs to keep his head above water, his feet found the pebbled bottom. He dug in his heels to get some traction, only to unintentionally get his foot caught between the big stone, and a smaller one that had been unseen.

Once more, he grabbed for anything that he could. Once again, the river worn stone was too smooth to grip. Several times, the water rushed up over his head. He gasped and sputtered, desperate to get his foot uncaught, but having nothing to hold onto.

And then the storm came.

Even in the moments he could breach the river's surface, the heavy rains poured over him until every breath was filled with gulps of water. He could not breathe. No amount of coughing helped. The rapids surged with the storm's power, slamming him into the rock, again. Unable to think clearly through the panic, he once again reached for a hold.

As his arm started to slip, again, it was caught. He latched onto what was holding him, and, suddenly, he was being pulled up. Someone was saving him. His shoulders and back were uncomfortably stretched, and jerked until the pulling stopped.

Please don't stop, his fuzzy mind begged. He squeezed with all the strength in him to tell the other person to, please, not give up on him. Black spots filled parts of his vision as he continued to try to breath. Then his rescuer grabbed the back of his vest. Though it was awkward, the new angle was enough to lift his foot out. He was yanked up and out of the river, laid out over the rock like the catch of the day. There was a hard hit to his back which dislodged the water from his lungs. The sudden force coming up his throat caused his stomach to lurch, and thus, he threw up.

Once that was over, however, he was free to gasp. Never in his life was he this grateful to merely breathe. The rain pelted down on his back as he shakily lifted himself to his hands and knees. His saviour- the armoured woman, he realized- helped to steady him. Doing this put both his wrists, and thus his bindings, before his eyes. His oath jumped to the front of his thoughts: My breath for freedom.

He huffed a tiny laugh through his panting, while he shook his head, and then glanced up where the moon had been. This seemed to cue the human woman to urge him onto his feet. He obeyed mostly because he wanted off this rock. Lucca did not miss that, when she waved for him to head to the small bank where the hunter waited, it was literally the only way this human would have made it onto this stone. Which, of course, would not have been possible if he had left the two of them to die. In showing mercy to them, mercy was granted to him. That had to be the Maiden's work, for sure. By the moon's grace, he was in for some deep soul searching.

As they shuffled along the embankment, he noticed the woman make some gestures. She was not trying to be subtle with her motions, so it was not meant to be some sort of signal to the other human.

The hunter smirked, “She says she's never seen an elf almost die from his own clumsiness, before.”

So she had been using a hand language. Lucca only knew humans to do that when they were deaf. He turned his head to actually study the soldier woman. A deaf warrior that could survive a horde of young draocani with hardly a scratch... alright. He would admit it; he had some immense respect for this human.

They seemed to be waiting for him to react, so he shrugged, “Its been a tryin' couple o' days.”

She signed some more, and the hunter continued to translate, “I imagine being on the run after trying to kill the King would be exhausting.”

“No, dodgin' trouble after an attack is part o' bein' an assassin,” he countered while leaning his back on the cliff. “We're no' even supposed ta still be here.”

“Then why are you?” she glared with the intent that he was fairly certain she might throw him back in the water should he dare to answer dishonestly.

Once again, he thought of his teammates, and the utter failure this mission had been since the start. He doubted he would ever see Xadia again, let alone the Silvergrove. Even in the miracle he did make it back, the humiliation he had brought to his people would see to him being ghosted for sure. Innes...

That in mind, he was not going to risk making things worse by reveal the entire truth.

“Ah'm sure y'u've heard tha' one o' ours betrayed us,” at her confirmation, he continued. “Our leader was tryin' ta salvage the situation by pretendin' we were keepin' yer Princes hostage since they've run off with Rayla. We just had ta keep you away from them until the King took his own life as the ransom.”

“Which is why you sent those monsters to cut us off,” the hunter concluded.

He nodded, and swept his wet bangs off of his forehead.

“Then why save us?” the woman signed.

Meeting her eyes to show he was being genuine, he answered, “Because we're no' cruel. The elf tha' cast the spell misinterpreted wha' it was supposed ta do. As soon as we realized it summoned draocani, we knew we had ta break the spell before they went after yer town.”

A loud clatter halted their conversation. The mass of rain had caused another surge in the river. This time, it had been powerful enough to knock their tree bridge past the rocks. While the log travelled down the stream, the small group had to push themselves as close to the cliff as they could to avoid the rushing current. Lucca noticed the soldier woman look up at his spear, then sign.

“Do you still intend to keep us from the Princes?”

He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. “There's no point keeping y'u from them.” Except for the egg, thus he amended. “But Ah will die before Ah let y'u or yer King near the egg.”

“Wha-” the hunter started to translate, but was stopped when the river nearly knocked his feet out from under him. Once he was steady, again, he quipped, “Maybe we should finish this conversation somewhere safer?”

The other two heartily agreed.

\--

The young Prince desperately clung to the flying steed. He could feel its fear, but, he could also fell it was just part of the illusion. It was not real fear, but it was real to this horse, so... it kind of was real fear? He had no idea how something could be both real and not, but this not-real real thing was taking him farther and father into the clouds.

Taking an encouraging breath, Ezran shakily straightened up in the saddle. He scratched along the stallion's neck like he would a normal horse, and softly cooed, “It's okay, little sweetie. I know that was really scary back there.”

Scary, of course, had been an understatement.

He remembered the feeling of it waking up. It had not been the first, to be honest. In fact, he had been roused from his own sleep by the feel of several.... _somethings_ waking up. Normally, his range for feeling those around him was pretty close. Yet, something about the young animals deep, deep in the forest had reached out to him instead of the other way around. As each one awoke, his senses had been overwhelmed by their fear.

Those ones had not scared him. The more he had felt them, the more he realized they were just lost little babies. They were hungry, and without their mama, and something was hurting them, though he had no idea what. He had laid awake for a solid twenty minutes or more trying to come up with an excuse to go out to the forest to help them anyway he could... whatever they were.

That completely changed when the mother finally awoke. She was starving, and angry, but it went deeper than the worst case of hangry in history. He could feel it reach out to him, and fill his head with terrifying emotions.

It wanted to rip.

It wanted to burn.

She would not be satisfied until she had slaughtered every living thing around her. She was more than some predatory animal; she was a blood-thirsty monster. No matter how he had tried to send a sense of calm through whatever connected them, it did nothing to ease her rage. All it had done was lead her straight to the Banther lodge because she had mistaken him for one of her babies. When she had peered through the window, and called for them without an answer, that need for blood had tripled.

And they had stupidly run from her, making themselves very obviously prey.

Ezran felt the horse's neck muscles tense beneath his fingers. He realized his musings had passed his own fears back onto the already panicked creature. Once again pushing those worries aside, he tried to soothe the poor animal again. “It's okay. You're okay now. That big scary monster can't get you way up here.”

Way, way up here... he made sure not to look down. Bait, on the other hand, had looked.

'Too high!' he yelped.

Hugging his companion, he tried to ease all of them, “Don't worry, Bait. I've got you.” Then, to the horse, plead, “Maybe we can go lower.”

'Bad light,' wafted off the magical horse.

Against his better judgment, Ezran looked down. Instantly, his eyes started to sting from rising smoke for the burning forest below. From up here, he could see everything; the city, the lodge, the Valley... all of it. Most importantly, he could see the castle in the distance. No doubt everyone was awake, watching to see if the growing fire would come for their homes.

“What if we go there?” he pointed towards his home, though, admittedly the horse might not be able to see where he was pointing.

It was almost as though his request shut off the horse's fear as it became entirely focused on where it was going. Racing the wind, its great wings soared, heading straight for the castle. It came down at such a fast angle Ezran had to grab its mane just to stay on its back. Bait clung to his chest glowing a vibrant green colour, and screaming louder than Ez.

They were zipping over the forest, still high enough to avoid the flames, when Ezran sensed something. It was like something was calling for someone, but it had not meant to be him. For some reason, it felt like he needed to go find it.

“Wait, go back!” he tugged the horse's mane with his direction.

Without a fuss, it circled back. As it galloped towards the spot the feeling was coming from, the air split with a loud explosion. Terrified, the magical steed swerved right into a particularly tall spruce tree that was on fire.

'Bad light!' it neighed before completely vanishing. Its passengers were thrown forward directly into the burning branches.

They fell a few meters more, but were slowed by the tightly grown together branches. Then, all at once, Ezran came to a stop thanks to something that felt like a bed. A second later, Bait landed on his chest.

“Are you okay?” he gently lifted his glowing friend to check for injuries.

'No. Sticks hit me,' he croaked back.

“Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have lots of bruises too.”

Ever so carefully, he sat up. Looking around, he realized he was in nest built from twigs and bones, and lined with feathers, fur, and sheep's wool... and a few stolen articles of clothing. It was a skyhound nest. Checking the surrounding branches, he easily spotted nests from the rest of the pack proving this tree was their den. The animals themselves were no where to be seen, though.

He set Bait down on the sturdy nest, and then, crawling to the edge, Ezran peeked over the side. Uh-oh... It was a long way down. The good news was, there were a lot of branches that he could easily climb down. The bad new? Almost all of those branches were on fire.

'Egg gone!' Bait exclaimed.

“What?” Ezran slipped his bag off one shoulder to confirm it was indeed empty. He should have realized his pack was too light! “Oh no. Where is it?”

He and Bait quickly scoured through the nest. It was while he was digging that Ezran felt a pull at his senses; a tiny cry for help. He hurried to the side of the nest it came from, only to learn it was not coming from inside the nest, at all. Looking over the edge, again, he searched the surrounding branches and nest below. It was hard to spot in how bright the fire was, but he just caught a glimpse of a glowing, blue shell perched in another, broken nest.

“Come on, Bait! We have to help!” he scooped up the frightened glow toad, and placed him on his shoulder. Said toad made a grumbling noise, but was happy that they were heading closer to the ground.

Careful as a trapeze artist, Ezran eased himself down onto the next branch. It creaked under his weight, but thankfully remained sturdy. Next was a lot trickier as all the closest branches to hold onto were far too charred for safety. He would need to make a small hop to the next safe-ish limb, and try not to catch his hair on fire. With a nervous gulp, he stretched out one leg as far as he could while ducking his head at the same time. Then, with a swing of his arms, he cleared the last inch; made it.

_Crash!_

Ezran flinched, and Bait gave a frightened yelp. Fortunately, the large branch that had just clatter to the ground was not from the tree they were in. Still, it was a harsh reminder that he really needed to get the egg, and get to the ground. He picked his way forward, one branch at a time. His breath becoming laboured between the effort and the heat. Perhaps that was making him start to feel light-headed, and why he overlooked that the last branch before the nest was too weak to hold a person.

As it gave out under his foot, he fell forward with his hands flailing to try to grab something. Mercifully, he landed in the nest with the egg in a way that only his legs dangled over the side. Even better, his hands found a hold among the nest's material that he could pull himself up the rest of the way. Of course, Bait jumped off his shoulder into the nest, and then started pulling his sleeve to help.

“Thanks Bait,” Ezran tried to give his friend a thankful smile, but his heavy panting made it too forced. “Let's get out of here.”

Bait could not agree more. He returned to Ezran's shoulder, and then the young Prince collected the egg.

'Too hot!' cried the baby dragon inside.

“I know. Its okay. I'll take you somewhere to cool down as soon as we're safe,” he pet the shell hoping to calm the dragon Prince. He could still feel fear waving off of him, but it helped to ease Ez's own fear that the little dragon believed in him. With that, he resettled the egg in his bag. This time, he wore the pack on his front so that he could make sure it did not fall out, again.

Ready as he was going to be, Ezran began to descend. It was a precarious balance between being careful, and getting out fast enough. Sometimes he had to avoid non-flaming limbs because they were obviously too weak, and sometimes he had to take a chance on some half-burned ones. Each meter closer to the ground was another ton of stress off him.

With less than ten feet to go, the fire was thicker. Down here, every branch was on fire, and he had to guess which ones were not going to break beneath him. So close now, he reached out to hold a branch above to stead him. He flinched feeling how hot it was, but it thankfully was not coals, and did not burn him. Unlike the one ahead of him he was trying to lower down to; that one's bark was almost entirely charcoal. He gripped the above branch tighter. He reached out his foot, but was forced to stop as he felt heat against the skin of his hand. He pulled back. Some of the threads on his sleeve had caught flame. It was only a small flame, though, and he and Bait easily blew it out together.

Just then, the large charred branch he had been head towards came crashing to the ground. Unfortunately, that had been the last safe-ish limb after the one he was currently standing on. Looking behind himself, all those between him and the ground were completely on fire, and bowing. Peaking around the egg filled bag, he glanced down the empty space. There was still about a six or seven foot drop. It really did not seem like that far, but he had never jumped down from anywhere this high before. Not to mention if he jumped wrong, he would fall onto the branch that had just gone down.

Mustering all the courage in him, he lowered himself to sit on his current perch. The branch swayed with a sudden breeze making him dig his fingernails into the bark. He heard creaking above him, and somehow he just knew the one overhead was about to come down too. It was now or never. With a swing of his legs, down they went. He landed feet first, which made his ankles throb, but then lost his balance, and ended up on his hands and knees. The coals singed his pants and palms, but he was more preoccupied with scurrying away. Right on time as nearly half the tree came down after him.

Ezran turned over to see just what would have fallen on top of him if he had not moved. Laying flat on his back, he panted, “That was... too close...”

'Have to run,' Bait nudged his cheek.

That's right. They might be out of the tree, but the fire could still get them if he just laid here. Picking himself up, he moved the bag to be on his back once again. Then he looked around himself. Sadly, he did not recognize anything.

“Which way?” he asked. But Bait did not know either.

As he pondered which way he should run, the sky opened up. Ezran paused a moment with his hand out. The cold water stung the mild burn, but after literally roasting in a tree, it felt good.

'Brother?' Bait wondered aloud.

“It does feel like magic.” His mood brightened, “Callum must be trying to put out the fire!”

This had to mean Callum was okay, right? He would not be casting magic towards the fire if he was still trying to defeat that Mama monster. He dared to reach out his senses, and could no longer feel her. The monster was gone, and as buckets upon buckets drenched everything, it doused the blaze until only the most stubborn embers remained. Ezran whooped, both for his brother's success, and, really, for surviving the fiery tree. Against his back, the egg shook with its own glee; he _really_ loved the feel of the rain... even from inside the bag.

As he became more elated that everything was going to be okay, he felt a small tug at his senses. Oh yeah, that thing that was calling for someone. He knew he should be looking for the road to get back to Callum, but that thing felt super important. Thus, he headed towards it. He was not able to go very fast as the combination of rain and steam made it near impossible to see; even with Bait's glow to provide light. After a while, he came to what looked like the edge of a clearing.

Something about this place felt horribly wrong that he hesitated to enter it. The ground was hot beneath his feet, and there were still plenty of red coals glimmering through the dark. Lightning flashed, and through the steam he could barely make out fallen trees, and large fissures in the earth. There was a number of rock piles, one of which looked like a smaller version of the monster laying on its side. This must have been where the babies were, he realized. It did not feel like any of them were nearby now, though.

Maybe that was why something was calling. Cautiously, he took one step at a time closer to one of the ditches. He stretched his neck to see over the side, but all he could really see was more rocks, and mud. Lightning flashed again, illuminating something blue among the debris. Setting down the egg, Ezran leaned over the ditch to reach for it. His arms were not long enough, though, so he leaned over a bit more. Still not close enough. Any further, though, and he would tip himself into the ditch.

“Bait, if I lower you down, could you grab that blue thing?” he asked.

The grumpy glow toad grumbled an 'okay'. Ezran snatched him up, and then brought him as close as his arms could reach. Bait's light instantly filled the space which revealed the blue thing they were after was a shiny rock. Not like a gemstone, or anything of the sort; just a rock that was abnormally blue.

It also exposed a muddy, four-fingered hand hidden between some rocks.

Ezran gasped, and moved Bait for his light to better see that, indeed, it was a hand, and not the rocks laying weird. “Hello? Is someone down there?”

If there was an answer, it could not be heard over the storm.

“Hold on. I'm coming down to help,” he started to shimmy back.

'Wait,' Bait grunted. Then Ezran understood that Bait intended to go down since he could jump up out of the ditch if he needed to, where Ez might end up stuck. Reluctantly, he agreed, and lowered his friend down as far as he could. It was the shortest drop the small creature had ever done; that included the couple of times he had fallen out of bed. Still, Ez felt bad when letting him go. He patiently waited while Bait hopped along the rubble, looking through the crevasses. After a moment, the brave toad peeked his head into a hole that would have been close to where the person's head was. His yellow body turned grey, and he instantly pulled back to turn to face Ez.

Without true words, he made the point that things were really bad. The two of them would need help to move the stones.

“Okay. You keep them company. I'll get help,” he hurried to his feet while Bait went back to the hole.

He realized a moment later the fault in his plan. Truthfully, he had no idea where he was, so running to find help would only get him more lost. He thought he could hear the river nearby, but who knows how far away that was. So, he did the only thing he could without loosing his way. Climbing atop the closest big rock, and shouted with all his might, “HELP!!!”

Hopefully, someone would hear him.

\--

“They were just going to run off across the world together,” the hunter- who he had come to learn was named Corvus- translated for the General.

Now that they were safely atop the cliffs, they insisted on a quick explanation from before. Lucca gave only the bare minimum details: that Rayla had disobeyed orders, and gone to the castle alone. At some point while she was there, she and the Princes discovered the egg was being kept by the High Mage to use for dark magic. And that the children had left in order to return the egg to the Queen of the Dragons together.

Lucca gave a confirmation nod.

The soldier woman- Amaya- shook her head with clear exasperation written on her face.

“HELP!!!” A small voice called. They must have been close if they could be heard between the rain and the river.

“That sounds like Prince Ezran,” Corvus exchanged worried looks with Amaya.

Lucca did not wait to know what her response was. Human or not, once a target or not, a child was in trouble. For all they knew, he was possibly being chased by the remaining draocani.

Getting back down the bank was far easier than climbing up it had been. He could not help the shaking in his knees as he leapt from stone to stone. After his near drowning, well... he could now sympathize with Rayla's fear of water.

“Someone HELP!” the boy called again.

Safely landing on the original bank, Lucca shouted back, “Where are y'u?!”

“Over here!” Came from his right. He raced towards the sound, mindful of the many openings in the ground. At last, he could make out a silhouette waving their arms. Thankfully, it did not look like the boy himself was in distress. Then what was he doing here, and where was his brother, Lucca wondered.

As soon as he was close enough that even a human could see him, he paused, ready to assure him that, yes, he was an elf, but he was not here to harm him. To his surprise, there was not a single bit of hesitation as the boy Prince climbed off his rock, and ran up to him.

“This way,” his little hand pointed off to the side. Expecting Lucca to follow, he turned without fear of an attack to his back, and lead the way.

Huh. What a curious lad, he thought as he silently followed.

As he got closer, Lucca went from a little off-put by the boy's obvious trust to full on bewilderment when he realized he now stood before the ditch Verrago had been buried in. A small glowing creature looked up at him from among the stones with the grumpiest disposition he had ever seen. He raised his eyebrow at it. A second later, it turned back to trying to move aside a rock half its body size.

“There's someone trapped,” the young Prince continued to explain while he laid down on his belly to start reaching for rocks. “I think they're really hurt.”

Lucca's chest squeezed, “Ah know who's in there. Ah can guarantee she's probably no' alive.”

Ezran glanced up at him, then thoughtfully looked down. He reached as far as he could into the hole, to a point that Lucca worried he was about to topple in, to grab something. It was Verrago's hand, he realized. After a second, he let go.

“She just squeezed my hand back! She's still alive,” he triumphantly cheered, and returned to grabbing what rocks he could.

Outwardly, Lucca did not give anything away. He had not seen so much as a twitch from that hand, let alone it 'squeezing' back. It all pointed to a lie, but he could not fault the child for wanting to help. Especially if he had been unlucky enough to see what lay beyond the rain and steam across the rest of the clearing. Then again, a kid this age would be in hysterics if he had seen the corpses around him.

The Prince noticed he had not moved, and looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please. We can't leave her down there. I don't know how much longer she can hold on.”

It was entirely possible she could have survived the draocani, but she would have suffocated beneath the stone and earth, or bled out from her stomach wound, long before he had even left the tree to get his spear. Now with the rain on top of it all, he felt certain all they were going to find was her mud covered corpse. His duties as an assassin meant he should be concerning himself with finding Tam, and getting them both back to Xadia. Plus, if he were honest, he did not want to remember Verrago as whatever messy remains rested in this hole.

Yet, call him sentimental, but after serving together as long as they had, it did not feel right to leave her body in a ditch. At the very least he could uncover her, and then give her a proper burial. Thus, he joined the young Prince in removing the rocks.

It was while he lifted the second stone near where her head would be, that he heard a weak cough. It... it could not be, could it? “Verrago?”

“Luc...” her voice was a faint wheeze, but he heard her none-the-less.

After that, he started moving faster. “Hold on, Verr. We're goin' ta get y'u out.”

“No'... gaun...” she trailed off into an incoherent mumble, but he still understood. If there was anyone he knew that would be too stubborn to die this way, it was Verrago.

Together, he and the Prince moved stone after stone. After a minute, it became clear that Prince Ezran could hardly reach most of the rocks let alone lift them. So, he moved instead to take the ones Lucca would bring up which saved him time to go for the next. It was an agonizing two minutes before, at last, her head was uncovered. She was muddied, bloodied, and bruised. One arm lay draped over her face from trying to protect herself. Still, he could see her lips parted as she worked to keep breathing.

Now that he knew where her head was, Lucca switched around, and lowered himself so his feet were carefully placed on either side. This helped use his body to shield her head from the rain, but also gave him far better leverage to remove the rubble. Since he had come down to work, the glow creature jumped up to the Prince's side. Said boy scooped up the pet, and held him up so that its light still illuminated the trench.

As he worked, a lightning flash revealed a familiar blue stone. He picked it up, and found that, although a piece of it was chipped off, the summoning rune was still fully intact. Without a word, he set it on a rock next to the opening, grabbed another heavier stone, and then smashed it. There was a brief flash of red light before what remained of the little stone turned to dust.

“What was that?” Prince Ezran inquired from the other side of the ditch.

“Something that could have caused more problems,” Lucca returned to freeing Verrago.

The human child was thoughtfully quiet for a moment before cautiously asking, “Is that what woke up the monsters?”

Lucca only gave the Prince a side glance while lifting out another heavy stone. At first he wondered how the boy knew it was magic, but realized he may have seen the rune. Still, something in his senses felt... off. Not good nor bad, but certainly there seemed to be something more here. He decided he would think on it more on the way back to Xadia, and then returned his full focus to the task at hand.

\--

General Amaya paced along the cliffs. She did not trust the elf with her nephew, but had no means of giving chase. The river was too high, the rocks too far apart, and the nearest tree to the edge that was tall enough to make a bridge had a trunk as thick as four people huddled together. The closest already built bridge was at the Banther Lodge. Even if she ran at her top speed, however, that was still a half an hour jog one way, then trying to make it back to the same spot, and track Ezran and the elf through this storm.

All that was ignoring the fact that Corvus was injured. As desperate as she was to get out there when, at least, one of her boys was so close, she would not leave an injured soldier behind.

Thus, she paced like a prowling banther. She was trying to figure out a way to vault both of them back to the other side of the river without further injuring or killing them both. Just then, Corvus started to wildly wave for her attention.

“It's Ezran,” she saw him say with a smile. Then he covered either side of his mouth she assumed to answer back.

She instantly moved to his side, and frantically signed, 'What is it? Is he okay?'

Corvus was visibly concentrating before answering, “He says he's fine, and that he and the elves are headed for the Banther Lodge to find Callum and the others. He wants us to meet them there.”

Amaya narrowed her eyes. She doubted it would be an ambush, but that did not mean it could not be misinformation to give the elves the chance to kidnap him. Except, the elf had said himself there was no point. As strong as her natural suspicion of them were, this one had helped them when he had not needed to. She had a feeling this one was sincerely going to bring Ezran to the Banther lodge. Either way, they would have to head there anyway if there was any hope of getting her nephews back.

Still...

'Tell the elf that if even one hair on Ezran's head is out of place, I will make it my mission to hunt him down to the ends of my days.'

\--

As the man shouted the threat, Lucca had to hold back rolling his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At almost 7k words, this is by far the longest chapter to date. I didn't want to split it though as it basically wraps up the 'race to the lodge' arch.  
> I can't even begin to explain how hard it was to write Ezran's part. I so wanted to give him a hero moment, but that meant putting a ten-year-old kid in a dangerous situation... I think I would feel better being eaten by a draocani.  
> As for the announcement: This has been by far one of the greatest fanfictions I've had the pleasure to work on (AO3 is not my first account through the years). Thus, because of the wonderful support from you all, and to help me practice voice acting, I'm going to be doing a sort of podcast/audio book with me reading Encyclopedia of Elves! I'm still working out the logistics of which programs to use for editing, and where it will be posted, but I'm hoping to have the first chapter out soon-ish. If you're interested, you can follow the progress on Twitter @BlueQuillStudio. I plan to also share there behind the scenes, artwork and deeper lore for the gods and goddess of Xadia vs Human Kingdoms, and probably pics and videos of my cats for extra cuteness.  
> Hope to see you all there!  
> As always, thank you all so much for reading <3


	33. Paths Collide

Runaan could not say he was surprised to reach the lodge, and discover it was in ruins. His mind had simply been elsewhere that he had not considered it until he was actually standing before the burnt remnants of the main structure. Fortunately, a quick look around did yield some sort of shelter; besides the stables, that is. Leading the horse towards it, he looked through the dusty window. In the small dark space he could see comfortable looking beds with chests at the foot of each, and a small fireplace on the other side of the room. It was probably the most luxurious servants' cabin he had seen, and exactly what they needed.

He let go of the reins to approach the door. After a brief search of the frame, and some low parts of the porch overhang, he could not find the key. No matter... he booted the door down in one swift kick. Though he knew it to be empty, old habits saw to him making a quick walk through. The main room held the beds and personnel effects. The door to the right of the fireplace lead to a small dinning area and kitchen, while the one on the left appeared to be for washing, and laundry. Satisfied, he went back out to bring Rayla, and the Prince inside.

He left the human laying in front of the fireplace, with a pillow for his head, to be tended to once Rayla's injures had been seen. Then he took Rayla to the kitchen, and laid her out over the table. It broke his heart to see her so pale. The old saying that she looked like 'death warmed over' caused an uncomfortable twist to his insides, because, in this circumstance, it was true.

She had died.

And the human he was here to kill had saved her.

Shoving aside his thoughts, he started rummaging through the cupboards for anything he could use. It was in one of the chests in the main room he discovered a sewing kit, complete with needles, spools of thread, cotton fibres, and fabric patches. It was as good as any human medicine kit, he supposed, though he would need to sterilize the needles. Thus he went outside to the woodshed to gather what he needed.

As much as he tried to keep his thoughts from wandering, they still did. He kept going back to that moment when he had placed his hand over Rayla's artery, and did not feel a pulse. That lifetime lived in the course of a precious few minutes as he waited, and prayed that she could be saved. To the way his mind had begged every one of the Primals, and their Keepers, for mercy.

Above all, that horrifying thought that Rayla's life might have been payment for _his_ misdeeds.

His breath stuttered, but he was quick to re-centre himself. The fire was made. A cooking pot was placed out in the rain to collect water. The King's horse was settled into the stables to rest. Runaan was even fortunate enough to happen upon some wild iris in his back-and-forth travels.

As soon as he returned to Rayla's side to assess her wounds, however, that gnawing guilt returned. He was careful to remove her under-armour to avoid tearing what scabs had already formed as much as possible. The vast majority of the tooth marks would need little more than disinfectant medicine, bandaging, and time to heal. It was those few that dug deep into her flesh that concerned him. Some lash root salve, or ointment made from Sun's Tears would have been preferred, but, alas, he had no idea where Verrago, and her remedies, were currently at.

At the thought of their herbalist, Runaan remembered that Tam had been in the fight with the adult draocani, as well. How could he have forgotten? There were a number of reasons, but that was no excuse. He was a leader, and, as such, he was responsible for the lives of his four remaining band members.

Three, he corrected himself. No matter the reason, Rayla was a mission deserter, and therefore she was no longer his responsibility. All the more reason why Tam's health and safety should have come before hers. He sighed as the weight of his decisions continued to load onto his shoulders. Choices that had all been for, or because, of Rayla. Evidently, the Council had been correct to question him taking his charge on this mission. They had trusted in him, in the end- as had his team- and yet, when it came to her, his judgment was compromised.

There was nothing for it, now, he steeled himself back to focus. He was already here, and he would live with the consequences when they came. For now he carefully draped a towel over her torso around her wound for her comfort and privacy, and then went to get the cooking pot from outside. It was not filled to even half, but was plenty for what he needed. He hung it on the hook of the fireplace to boil. Job finished, his eyes fell to the human.

He seemed so... scrawny. The image was only made worse by the way his wet clothing clung to his shivering frame.

Since he needed to wait for the water to boil anyway, Runaan set to work peeling away the frigid layers. He considered changing the boy into one of the outfits he had found, but one look at the degree of spell burn across his body, and he decided against it.

Moon's Mercy, he had never seen a case this severe before.

There were places where the skin blistered, and others that wept puss. It was especially terrible going from fingertips trailing up his arms, and stopping dead centre of his chest. This was going to take far more care than a handful of wild iris could provide. The sheer agony the Prince must have suffered, it was a wonder he had not died from the shock. It probably would have killed him, had Rayla not stepped in. It was probably why it had killed her, in the process. What kind of spell could be that advanced, and that dangerous, that magic had ripped though the boy mage this way?

His only answer was a flash of lightning, and a roll of thunder.

With all the gentleness he could give, Runaan delicately placed the human into a bed closest to the fireplace. He only dared to loosely drape a thin sheet over him as a true blanket would scratch and irritate the tender skin. He hated to admit it, but this was beyond his field medicine training. He was not even certain if Verrago would be able to help this human... if she was even willing to. She was not bound to aid him as a true healer would be, after all. Honestly, why was he even offering to help?

Well, that at least had an answer: it was because his father had saved Rayla. Runaan could not spare the King himself given his crimes against Xadia, but he could also not ignore a personal debt owed.

The image of her lifeless body laying before him tried to creep back to the front of his thoughts, but he shook it away. It still stirred enough anxiety inside his heart that he went to check on her; holding his breath until he confirmed she was, indeed, still alive. Needing something to busy himself with, he ventured out once more to collect firewood that he could lay to dry inside. It was during his second trip that he spotted some humans approaching on horseback.

He ignored them to settle his haul inside. From all the loud orders being toss around, it did not sound like they intended to acknowledge him, either. He went undisturbed as he removed the boiling water from the fire, and split it between the pot and a bowl. In the pot he threw the needles, then with the bowl of water, and a cloth, he carefully cleaned the blood off Rayla's torso. Thankfully, the task required far too much focus for his thoughts to wander, again.

Some time later, after he had begun to stitch closed the worst punctures, a familiar voice could be heard shouting. Apparently someone was trying to assist Tam to the cabin, and he was having none of it. Runaan let out a breath through his nose.

He continued with his work, even as Tam bellowed from the cabin entrance, “Runaan?!”

“In here,” he calmly answered at a normal speaking tone.

He was surprised that he could actually hear Tam's tread marching through the space. Coming through the door, the youngster was every bit the proverbial wet rooster, but then completely froze at the end of the table. The room remained silent.

Finally, after a solid minute, Tam spoke in a quiet voice, “How is she?”

“Alive,” Runaan answered just as low. He snipped the thread near the newest knot, and then dipped the needle in the pot to clean it. While doing that, he glanced up to get a good look at Tam.

The young assassin was drenched to the bone, and there were dark, heavy bags under his eyes. He was leaning on his left side, his hand was holding a spot on his ribs, and there was a wet bandage wrapped around his head.

“You look as though you could use some rest,” though it was a casual comment, it held the undertone of a command.

Tam glanced towards the door, “Cannae say Ah'll get any with all these humans walkin' around.”

Threading the needle once more, Runaan assured him, “Their King and I have an accord. They will not bother you, so long as you do not antagonize them.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Tam giving him a questioning look. Thus, even quieter, he added, “I will explain once Lucca and Verrago arrive.”

Before there was a chance for him to respond, both elves tensed at the sound of footsteps.

“My word,” someone gasped.

“Please don't touch him, yet,” the human King's voice gently ordered. There were more footsteps, then the man himself appeared through the door.

Tam instantly straightened his stance, and glared. Runaan, however, remained ever stoic.

“I have some of the kingdom's doctors here with me. Is there anything they can do to help?” King Harrow was civil, and also keeping his voice down as if the pair of teenagers could be disturbed if he spoke too loud.

Runaan paused before answering, only long enough to give his full attention to the next stitch, “Your son's spell burn is unlike anything I have ever witnessed. I would suggest they tend to him as they would one with normal burns of that magnitude. Beyond that, I would have to consult my team's herbalist.”

The King took a moment to nod to someone in the next room, then returned his attention to the elves, “Do any of you need anything?”

Tam's eyebrows raised, and he shot Runaan a 'is he serious?' look.

He, of course, pretended not to see it, “Tam and I are well enough to tend to ourselves.” Then, he sighed, and set down his work, “But I suspect Rayla would benefit from having the rest of her wounds tended to by one whose profession is medicine.”

The truth was, Runaan was struggling to keep his hands steady. The reduced circulation in his arms thanks to the binding getting tighter was not helping, but he was also not well versed in this sort of work. With a blade, he had the precision to slice a hair down the length. With a bow, he could hit a target over two hundred metres away. With a needle and thread, however...

It made him think of Ethari, and how, in the early days of their marriage, his husband had gently teased him about his poor attempts to repair his own clothing.

Setting the thought aside, Runaan stood to allow the doctor the King had waved in to take over. He hovered for a moment until he noticed the human was shaking as he unloaded his supplies. With an annoyed huff, he beckoned Tam, and the both of them followed the King out of the room.

“I've had word sent back to the castle regarding your code word. However, Commander Gren has informed me that General Amaya and eight other soldiers are currently unaccounted for. Hopefully, the platoon and your remaining assassins do not cross paths.”

“They're dead.” Both Runaan and King Harrow looked back to Tam who had sat himself on the edge of one of the beds. “We were flyin' o'er a field tryin' ta get here before yer people. Found oot we didnae need ta because the wee beasties got ta 'em.”

He had not sworn. That alone told Runaan that whatever Tam had seen, it was leaving him shaken. There was, also, another detail needing to be addressed. “You said 'we'. Were Lucca and Verrago with you?”

“Aye,” Tam rubbed behind his ear. “Lucca told meh ta get here, 'n' keep the weans safe while him 'n' Verr took oot the wee fockers. Didnae know their fockin' Ma was already here wreckin' shite.”

Further guilt weighed down on Runaan's shoulders. If they had done this mission the way it was supposed to be done, they either would have died trying to fulfill their goal, or already be on their way home because it was complete. They would not have been in the area, and they would not have felt the need to sacrifice themselves to a horde of dark summoned draocani.

“I see,” King Harrow frowned, and he gained a sorrowful, far off look. “I will have Commander Gren lead a small team to where the platoon was last seen. If the two of them are there, I will have them brought to you, immediately.”

“No. I will go look for them,” Runaan firmly stated. These humans, after all, had allowed Seumas' body to already fall into the hands of a dark mage. He would not permit the same atrocity to be done to anyone else.

He need not explain, though, as the look in King Harrow's eyes reflected he already knew, “I understand. I believe the horse you were using before was rec-”

The blast of a horn halted the King's words. At the stampede of hooves, King Harrow raced outside. A single glance towards Tam, and Runaan moved to the door to observe what the fuss was about.

\--

“Dad!” Ezran waved from the back of the horse he rode with a soldier.

It was a moment King Harrow would forever hold to his heart, in this life, and the next. After everything that had come to pass in the last two days, his youngest son was riding through the rain towards him as if he had just been away to see the country side. It took every ounce of willpower to wait for the horses to stop, and for the soldiers to help Ezran down. As soon as his feet touched ground, though, he ran towards his father.

The King fell to his knees, and captured his boy in a giant hug. It was a little awkward since he had to loop his arm under Ez's very heavy backpack, but he did not care. Tears of relief mixed with the raindrops dripping down his face. He tried to speak, but he could not find the words. He just squeezed his son tighter to him, and rejoiced in the feeling of Ezran hugging him back. It had to be uncomfortable how hard he was hugging, but the young Prince did not make a peep of protest.

Two days ago he had believed he had said his final goodbye to them. Yet, the paragon granted him one more time to see Callum- as a mage!- and to hold Ezran close.

“I'm so happy you're safe,” reluctantly, he let go, but only to check over his son. “Are you hurt?”

“I'll be okay. I just burned my hands a little,” he held up his palms to show the slight reddening. Then he pointed towards the other dismounting riders, “But one of the elves is really hurt.”

He followed where his son pointed to see a male elf dismount from a horse. He looked a little odd trying to shoulder three elven packs, and a satchel. The male glanced his way, but then moved to behind the horse he had been riding.

Between that horse, and another, was a stretcher crafted from ropes and chain around General Amaya's shield. From where King Harrow knelt, he could see white hair, and a pair of horns on the individual laying on the make-shift stretcher. King Harrow stood, and approached the pair.

“Would you happen to be Lucca? or Verrago?” he was especially glad he had made sure to note their names when Runaan had mentioned them moments ago.

The uninjured elf remained neutral as he watched the King's approach. “Ah'm Lucca. This is Verrago.” He made a motion to the one laying on the shield beside him.

Looking down, he found the female elf was covered by a cloak. Yet, her face still bore signs of bruising, and the space around her eyes were so painfully swollen that her eyes seemed to be sealed shut.

“I know she's an elf, but do you think we can help her, Dad?” Ezran asked coming up beside him.

King Harrow granted his boy a reassuring smile, and set a hand on his shoulder. “Of course.” Then meeting Lucca's eyes once more, he directed, “The guard's cabin has been made into a temporary hospital. You can bring her there.”

He suspiciously peered at said cabin, but, in the next moment, his shoulders relaxed. Lucca met the King's gaze long enough to say, “Thank you.” Then he carefully lifted Verrago in a bridal-style fashion, and carried her off to the cabin.

Ezran made to follow, but King Harrow stopped him. “We shouldn't go in there, yet. Your brother was badly injured, too, and the doctors are going to need the room to work.”

The young Prince's frown, and bright worried eyes, were heartbreaking to see. “Is Callum going to be okay?”

“I don't know, yet,” he sadly admitted. “But as soon as the doctors know, they will tell us. Okay?”

Ezran nodded that he understood. “What about Rayla? And Tam and Gren? Are they okay?”

“There's no need to worry, Prince Ezran,” said Commander Gren who had been standing with some of the other guards. “I am perfectly fine.”

Which was true. Though the large monster had battered him hard enough to knock him into a tree, once he was helped down- with the help of many hands and a taught sheet- he was up and walking with only moderate bruising. The worst of which being his black-eye, but that only appeared to bother him enough to cause a small squint.

King Harrow gave the Commander a grateful smile, then finished answering Ezran's question, “And the doctor's are looking after Rayla right now, but Tam was speaking with his leader, inside, when I last saw him.”

Ezran turned a thoughtful look towards the cabin, “Can I go say hello to Tam? I want to thank him for saving me and Bait.”

Said glow toad gave a croak from where he sat on Ezran's backpack.

“We can ask if he feels up to coming outside,” King Harrow gently counter-offered. He was not so keen on his youngest being around the grouchy elf.

Ezran happily agreed to the compromise.

\--

Tam was thoroughly confused; why the fock were Runaan, and the human King of Katolis, being so... polite to one another?! Runaan said he would explain when the others arrived, but nothing short of 'he's possessed by dark magic' seemed to fit. Except Tam's first assassination had been on a dark mage in Del Bar. He knew what dark magic felt like; how it lingered like stale death. That feeling was not coming off of Runaan, at all.

He shook his head, and tried to find something else to focus on to keep himself distracted. That was when his eyes fell on the mage Prince, and he unintentionally flinched. “Fockin' shite, will ye get a load o' him!”

Runaan turned around as if prepared for an attack, but then relaxed. “Tam,” his voice both scolding and a warning.

Slack jawed, he forced himself to face his leader, but the image was burned into his brain. “That's fockin' spell burn? Whit kind o' fockin' magic does shite like that?!”

“It was some form of advanced Sky Magic. The rest, I do not know. I would suggest, however, you remember yourself, and mind your volume,” he added a glare to his point.

Tam ducked his head feeling like a scolded child. “Aye. Sorry, mate.”

He noticed Runaan walk over to the bed beside the one he had sat on, and pull back the blanket. The leader's attention, however, was on the door. “Set her, here.”

Tam leaned to the side to see around Runaan to find Lucca walking in. Wrapped in a human's cloak, his sister lay limp in the other elf's arms. His heart sank to the floor as he staggered to his feet. “Verr...”

Lucca silently settled her on the bed. She gave a tiny groan with a little crinkle in her nose as he did so. It was already awful the way her face was swelled, and bruised. Then Lucca carefully pulled away the cloak, and Tam was ready to be sick when the smell of rot hit his nose. There were visible punctures in her left arm beneath the elbow. From it wept large gobs of red and yellow-white ooze, and the skin around it was purple heading towards midnight black. At least, above the wounds was dark purple. From those punctures down to the tips of her swollen fingers, it looked like the skin had been chewed away by thousands of insects to reveal the tissue beneath; also excreting mixtures of blood, pus, and unnatural red ooze.

Runaan took one look at her, and turned to the humans, “I am aware your Prince comes first, but if any of you can be spared, I ask of you... please, help her.”

The trio tending to the Prince exchanged looks, but two of them seemed to be more focused on the eldest. The older woman turned around, and her eyes landed on Verrago's arm. Her leathery nose crinkled, and her gaze hardened. “Misty, keep applying the burn salve to Prince Callum. Don't burst any of the blisters, for the Lady's sake. Arbour, with me.”

She then shoved past Lucca to get a better look at her patient. The stern looking middle-aged man was a little more polite, and had asked Tam to move aside so that he could stand on the opposite side of the bed to the matron.

“She also has a cut on her middle tha' she's been tendin',” Lucca supplied as he stood back. “It looked like it had reopened durin' the fight.”

Arbour pulled back the slit in her clothing to reveal the red soaked bandage. “We'll have to remove her clothes to get a better look.”

Tam clenched his fists, “Yer no' fockin' strippin' mah sister bare-.”

But Runaan raised his hand to silence him, “Tam, go through Verrago's medicines, and find some lash root or ointment of Sun's tears.” Then, meeting the woman's eyes, added, “If it is all the same with you, we will undress her while you prepare what you need.”

The woman firmly nodded, “We need to boil some water, anyway.”

Lucca handed him Verrago's satchel, set down the other packs, and then he and Runaan switched places with the doctors to remove Verrago's armour, and outer-wear. Tam was still not comfortable with having his sister half-naked in front of humans, but at least it was fellow elves stripping her. He trusted them to be far more respectful of her privacy. He turned his back to them, and upturned the satchel onto the nearest bed. The little, wooden box of lash root salve was easily recognized in less than a second. Snatching it up, he handed it to Runaan while purposefully keeping his eyes turned away from Verrago.

“Any idea what poisoned her?” the old woman asked while the other doctor went to fetch more water.

“Poison?!” Tam unintentionally looks down. He stared at the swelling in her hands and face, and the pus like ooze from her wounds. “Draocani dinnae hae venom.”

“Its backlash from one o' her own elixirs she was usin' ta fight,” Lucca answered.

Runaan tucked a blanket around Verrago's hips to hide her lower half, even though she still had undergarments on. Not before Tam noticed her feet and legs were swollen too. “Do you recall any details what the elixir or its ingredients looked like?”

“Some sort o' red liquid,” Lucca moved aside to allow the doctor to return to work.

“This stuff here?” The woman pointed toward the unnatural red beside the crusts of blood.

He nodded.

Tam squinted at it, “Look a bit like Star's bane.”

“She had been mutterin' somethin' tha' sounded like 'Star's bane' before she passed out,” Lucca confirmed.

“Did she mention what it had been mixed with?” Runaan continued to ask after removing the bandage around her middle. The cut had healed some, but had obviously not been healed enough which caused it to split again. Like the punctures in her arm, it oozed with the elixir in her system.

“Ah couldn' make it out,” Lucca headed for Verrago's pack. “It sounded like she was sayin' 'ivy metal'.”

Tam scratched his aching head; he may not pay as much attention to Verrago's herbs as she would have liked, but he knew there was nothing called 'ivy metal'. Runaan, who was definitely more versed in medicines than him, appeared to be just as perplexed.

From her pack, their third party member withdrew Verrago's mission journal. “Does she still make lists o' what she intends ta bring before a mission?”

Tam snorted, “O' course, she does.”

She always drove him mad from stressing over those damn lists. The day before leaving for a mission was a nightmare as she would check and recheck she had everything, and the correct quantity of each. Even before he was officially allowed to go on missions, she would have him check at least once as well. Thank the Moon that both the times she had been engaged, her fiancees happily took over the 'help her check her list' job. This one being the first mission in years that he had been asked to help her sort her bag.

Lucca thumbed through the book towards the end. His eyes dashed back and forth over the page. As Tam and Runaan waited, and the doctors did their best to clean the wounds without getting any of the elixir on them, there was a knock on the door frame.

“Is Tam available to speak for a moment?” It was the focking King, again.

He glared at the disgusting human, “Away with ye. Ah'm fockin' busy.”

He could see the doctors shoot him a look, but it was not nearly as entertaining to him as the disapproving frown from the King. It had probably been _never_ since someone told the man off. Which just made it feel that much better.

Then, from outside, Prince Ezran's voice filtered in, “Its okay, Dad. Tam was rude to me too when we first met, but then we ate jelly tarts together, and he told me about Westies, and Silvers, and how to hold a knife without hurting anyone.”

Tam could feel his teammates eyes on him. If it had just been Lucca, he would have told him to fock off, but since one of them was Runaan, he chose to keep his mouth shut. That did not stop him from shooting his littlest finger at their second-in-command. The other elf had the tiniest smirk that he hid with the journal as he went back to comparing the list to the items laid out on the bed.

The King considered his son's words, then, in an obvious attempt to make light of the comment, said, “I suppose we are all getting a little hangry this close to breakfast. Once we have finished setting camp, I will ask the cooks to make a banquet breakfast for everyone.”

“Thank you,” Runaan's tone was stiff as though he wished he was not saying those words. “Now, whatever your business is with Tam, I ask that it wait as one of ours is battling for her life.”

King Harrow's face dared to show understanding, “Of course. Ezran merely wanted to check on him to make sure he was alright.”

“And to say thank you for saving me,” said Prince peaked around the door frame. “I know how much it meant for you to give me your flying horse when your leg is hurt.”

“Uh...” Tam glanced between his teammates searching for help; how was he supposed to respond to that?!

Thankfully- sort of- the King was ushering his boy away, “We can discus this at a better time. Please let us know if there is any other way we can help.”

Lucca's head shot up and spun to look back at the King with surprise so quickly that Tam wondered how he had not dislocate his neck. Well, at least he was no longer alone in feeling like he was in an odd illusion among these humans.

Still being strangely polite, Runaan nodded, “We will let you know.”

As the murderous human walked away with his child, they could hear him asking Ezran to tell him all about what had happened since they had last seen one another.

Tam, however, was still caught off guard by the boy's thanks. He had not been saving him... he had been... no, he had been saving him. He could remember flying through the air, seeing the adult draocani going after the kids, and deciding they needed to get far, far away. Even if it meant stranding himself by giving up his horse. The human soldier had given him a moment's distraction to jump off, and throw the boy on. It had been in the moment, but it had been his choice... he had saved one of his targets.

“This whole fockin' mission has gone fockin' mad,” he muttered while fiddling with his ear since rubbing behind it was sore.

Runaan gave a tired, yet agreeable sigh, “Perhaps more so than any of us can understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd get this out tonight rather than wait until tomorrow morning...mostly so I can sleep in because this audio book stuff is time consuming! Speaking of, I've been uploading different tid bits on Twitter over the last week including a hand drawn image of the Maiden of the Moon (or one interpretation of her anyway). You can check it out following #EncyclopediaofElves or my personal Twitter feed @bluequillstudio
> 
> I don't know why I enjoyed writing Runaan's piece in this as much as I did, but I did. He is such a deep, broody elf that really has a hard time with his emotions. Also, finally I have all the remaining members of the elf squad together again! (it only took 33 freaking chapters... ouf)  
> As always, thank you all so much for your comments, and support. You guys make me smile with every review, and help keep this story going. Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have enjoyed. See you all soon!


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